


Last Straw

by cowboykylux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, CYOA, Cannibalism, Character Death, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Ending, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Horror, Major Character Injury, Serial Killers, Some Parts Have MCD, Survival Horror, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2020-12-21 12:44:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: Newly married to your high school sweetheart Kylo Ren, the two of you move into Skywalker Ranch, a farm recently passed down after the death of Kylo’s grandfather. The place is charming, and the people seem friendly…but are they?(A modern Kylo Ren x Reader ‘choose your own adventure’ fic. In this story you will have the chance to decide your fate in this never-before-done (by me lol) CYOA horror fic. With options at every turn, you are responsible for your destiny. Choose wisely – or not so wisely – and end up at any one of 6 unique endings sure to chill, thrill, and fulfill.)





	1. Instructions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I am thrilled to share with you this new story I am working on! The full thing in its entirety will be published on Oct. 31st, but until then I thought I'd give a brief intro to how the CYOA works for those who may have never done it before, I hope you all are as excited about this as I am!

Hello everyone! Before diving into the full fic, I wanted to first have an introductory page explaining how a Choose Your Own Adventure story works! 

You'll notice that there are many chapters to this fic, each with a specific story line in mind. Please do not read the chapters in order, as the story lines are not posted in order! Begin with chapter 1, and see where the story takes you! 

At the end of each point in the fic, you will be confronted with two options. These are called 'jump points.' Depending on which option you decide, you'll refer to the chapter that the option wants you to jump to. 

For example (this is a random example and not part of the story):

_You come across a dark forest that has two paths, one leading to the left, and one leading to the right. Where will you go?_

_ **(If you choose the left path, jump to chapter 2) (If you choose the right path, jump to chapter 3)** _

Depending on which chapter you decide to jump to, your story will continue on and on until you arrive at the end.

But be warned! There are more than one way to end up at the same ending, and only one way to end up at others. Please feel free to re-read the fic as many times as you'd like, to see how many different combinations you can come up with, and to experience all of the possible paths! 

**CONTENT WARNINGS WILL BE IN THE NOTES AT THE END OF EACH CHAPTER. **

**IF YOU ARE CONCERNED ABOUT THE POSSIBLE THEMES FOR EACH CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK THE NOTES BEFORE READING. **

xoxo   
Zannah 


	2. Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where your story begins. Choose wisely -- each choice you make determines your fate.

It’s a long drive, through the mountains. It’s been a long drive, the past few days. But though it’s been long, it’s growing to a close, and with each mile that you get under your belt, each mile closer to Sweetwater County, the excitement and anticipation grows. Kylo drives the brand new ‘62 F150, a wedding gift from your folks, and with the windows rolled down as the wind blows through your hair, you enjoy the trip.

You try, try your damnedest to stay in high spirits, high enough for the both of you. Kylo’s grandfather’s passing hadn’t been sudden, hadn’t even been unexpected, but well.

It was still hard.

Moving out from the city to live on the ranch, a fifteen-hundred-acre chunk of land, the very same land which Kylo had the happiest moments of his childhood, was hard.

But cancer was harder.

Still, it was his, the ranch. Left to him by his grandpa, the only thing he had left to give to anyone. Kylo hadn’t wanted it to just get sold to the state, so on the trip you went. You packed up everything you owned from your small apartment in the city, hopped in the truck, and headed for the countryside.

It’s scenic, so scenic, on all sides of you – the winding road offering a panoramic view of the rich golden brown earth that surrounds you. The air is so much cleaner here, so much more crisp in the late fall. The trees have all gone red and yellow, a couple leaves hitting your hand as it hangs out the window. Kylo has the radio turned all the way up, and for the first time in a long time, he sings along. He scowls through the lyrics of the old crackling tunes from a bygone era that come from the radio.

They’re nostalgic songs, the old slow sad country type, and maybe that’s why he sings along. Maybe he sings along because he can’t live inside his own head much longer, can’t stay silent much longer. You’re not sure. But whatever the reason, you don’t interrupt him, not for a long while, not until the sun begins to dip beyond the mountains and you emerge from the wood, not until you cut through the golden fields via a dirt road, a big wrought iron gate locked shut before you.

Kylo puts the car into park, turns it off. On the ring he twirls around his finger is an old key, and you stick your head out of the truck’s window to watch him walk away.

“Are we here?” You ask, not sure if this is just someone else’s land that you need to cut through, a secret shortcut he knows about.

Kylo opens the gate, opens it wide, the hinges creaking and groaning, rusted from disuse. His leather boots crunch on the earth below his feet as he makes his way back to you in the truck, kisses you square on the lips through the window with a wistful smile.

“Edge of the property. Everything that stretches until the mountains is ours.” He points as he speaks so softly. Your husband’s always been a quiet man, an explosion of emotion simmering just beneath the surface.

“You okay?” You ask, because you know this, as you cup his scarred cheek, give him a sad smile of your own.

The death has been hard on him, hardest on him than anyone else in the family. Kylo had been the only one to really care for his grandpa, towards the end. His senator mother and sister wanted nothing to do with him, felt he was too bad for her campaign image; his uncle was too busy working at the university, too busy teaching to spend more than a day with him. So Kylo went, visited four times a week, took him any and everywhere he wanted.

Until he couldn’t anymore, the old man too ill to leave his bed.

“Yeah. Just…” Kylo sighs, kisses your palm before stepping away, rounding the truck to start the engine just long enough to bring you onto the property, before jumping back out and locking it once again. When he’s back, he sighs, stares out at the expanse of land before you both, and sighs again. “Just a lot of memories, is all.”

You nod, strike up a match and light a cigarette, handing it to him. He accepts it gratefully, and he drives the truck down the road some more, down the fields some more.

“He would be proud that you’re taking over, keeping those memories alive, you know?” You say, trying to be encouraging, and he chuckles just a little, more of a self-deprecating laugh than anything, and you know what he’s thinking.

It’d be the first time anyone in his family is proud of him, for anything.

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. You’ve known him long enough.

“If I remember it right, the house should just be up over this way.” He says instead, and you scoot across the bench seat enough to rest your head on his shoulder, smiling at the sight of it all.

You had thought you had an idea of what fifteen-hundred acres was, but really, this was much bigger than anything you could have imagined, so much different when you looked at it on Google Maps. As you pass by the fields and fields of tall grasses in desperate need of a cut, you can only picture the transformation, can only picture how it might once have been. The cattle grazing, horses galloping, sheep baaing. It really feels like the wild west out here, as the farmhouse comes into view.

The house itself is huge, and you can’t help but grow giddy at the sight of all the windows, all the rooms. The apartment you had shared in the city was only a one-bedroom, but it looked as though there were at least two stories here, maybe even an attic.

It looks old, but there’s a certain charm to that, you find. The whole house is made of wood, long strips that have been nailed together, painted white once upon a time. The roof is wood shingles, these too painted, but in a dusty rusty red. You wonder if that’s just from age, if they were once bright as a firetruck. You can picture it, you think.

The house greets you with a beautiful front porch, above it is a large protruding bay window that you think will be a perfect place to sit and read or write. It needs work though; the windows are broken, whether from vandalism or force of nature you couldn’t know. The paint is stripped and the wood is weathered, there are shingles missing, and the landscaping has grown unruly, out of control. If there weren’t such a beautiful sunset casting a deep orange and pink glow across the farm, you thought it might have looked creepy, some old haunted thing untouched by time.

“How long has it been since someone lived here?” You ask, curious.

“Shit,” Kylo whistles, when he pulls the truck to a stop for the final time of the evening, when he comes round the cab to open your door, offer you a hand to step down. You stretch your legs with a big grin, it had been three hours since the last time you’d had a break from being on the road. “I don’t know, just about fifteen years?”

You whistle too, and Kylo smiles at you fondly, wraps an arm around your shoulder as he pulls you close to his side, kisses the top of your head. He’s so tall, you think, you have always thought.

“Oh good, there’s electricity then.” You tease, grabbing your suitcases from the bed of the truck, which he immediately takes from you so you don’t have to carry them.

“I don’t know, the house was built around the turn of the century, there very well may not be, not all the way out here.” He says, and you stop in your tracks, “I’m kidding – of course grandpa had electricity. Grandma wouldn’t have let him get away with that.” He laughs, trying his best to stay in good spirits.

You can tell though, all he wants to do is cry, can tell by the wetness in his eyes.

He turns away from you though, hides the grief for now, and goes into the house. You follow, not bothering to lock the truck, because honestly, you didn’t expect there to be another person for half an hour at least.

When you cross the threshold onto the creaking floorboards, you’re surprised to find it fully furnished. It’s old furnishings definitely, definitely from around the fifties or sixties, but you don’t hate it – in fact you think of how jealous your city friends would be, the mid-century-mod look so in fashion.

No wonder Kylo loved the place so much, he definitely had a penchant for the 60s. The golden age, he always called it, of real social and political change, of real optimism. You wondered if he was optimistic now.

“Come check the place out with me?” You ask, reaching out a hand for him to take as he puts down the suitcases.

He rushes to hold your hand, always so eager to be near you, and you smile.

“Here, watch your step.” He says, leading you down the hallway, running his hand along the faded and torn wallpaper. “Fuck, it’s a lot more run down that I remember.”

“That tends to happen when a place is abandoned.” You reply honestly, and Kylo’s shoulders begin to shake. You can’t imagine the sort of shock he must be going through, and you waste little time in holding him close, hugging him so tight. “Hey, Kylo, look at me? It’s going to be okay. It just needs a little a work that’s all.” You reassure, and he nods, but tears slip down his nose anyway.

You think about this hall, how there’s spots on the wall where photos once hung. You think about the wallpaper, and how bright it must have been, how Kylo must have trailed his hand along it when he was a boy, a boy playing cowboy with his grandpa, baking pies in the kitchen with his grandma.

“Can we just go to bed? I’m exhausted.” He asks, voice barely above a whisper, and you hug him again, give a soft kiss to his cheek where the salt from his tears are beginning to stain.

“Of course honey, of course.” You agree, you’re exhausted too. Something about traveling always tires you out, you don’t know why.

* * *

The bedroom itself is huge, almost as big as the living room, or at least it feels like it with all the windows. There’s that great bay window you had seen out front, and you grow a little excited at the thought that such a beautiful feature is in the bedroom, it makes the whole place feel a little more elegant. There are delicate white curtains, or well, maybe they were once white, now faded and yellowed just a little bit from the weather. You run the scalloped lace edge between your fingers, and hope that a good washing and a bleach is all it needs.

You wish that a good washing and a bleach is _all_ the house needs, but nowhere is it more evident than in the bedroom that this place is a serious fixer-upper. There are panels loose, wiring exposed, rusty nails jutting out from the walls. Big stains in the ceiling suggest water damage, and warped flooring only confirms your suspicion.

After you and Kylo make the bed with fresh clean sheets and have replaced the pillows with ones you brought from your old apartment, you both lay in bed, facing one another, eyes shining from the light of the moon. It is so much quieter, out here in the country, and the two of you can’t help but smile against the sounds.

It’s windy at night, something you didn’t really expect – had it been windy in the city? Maybe it had but you just couldn’t tell, the noise of it covered by the ever present rumble of traffic. The insects are so loud, so loud it’s almost deafening, and every now and again there is the hoot of an owl.

Neither of you can sleep, and this for some reason is the funniest thing, both of you giggling like teenagers, like the very first time you spent the night at his house, way back in eleventh grade. It feels like a beginning, some grand new adventure, one that’s so outside the box of anything anyone could have imagined for you – that you could have imagined for yourselves.

Kylo pulls you close, tucks your face under his chin and kisses the top of your head. He’s all out of tears for the moment, and you count his breathing until it slows to an even rhythm, letting your own eyes slip closed as you sleep for the first time in your new house, on your new farm, in your new life.

* * *

If falling asleep to the sound of nature was weird, waking up to it was even weirder. You almost felt like you were on vacation, had stolen away some time to be able to appreciate the quiet, but now that all you had was quiet, it was a disorienting sensation. You have no alarm, your phone battery dead from accidentally forgetting to plug it in, so when you wake it’s to the sun already high in the sky, though despite that, it’s freezing from being so late in October.

Kylo is out of bed, his side empty when you blink your eyes against the brightness of the day, and you follow the smell of coffee to find him standing in his boots and blue jeans, looking all too much like the corn fed farm boy you knew and loved. You wondered if he would get a hat, one with a big curled brim, the same shade of brown as his boots.

You shuffle into the kitchen, find that the floor has already been swept away, presumably by Kylo while you were still sleeping. He opens his arms to you immediately, kisses you despite your sleep-sour breath, and pushes a hot mug into your freezing fingers.

“Did you sleep okay?” You ask, stealing a kiss once more, and then another one and another one, until he’s smiling at you, pouring cereal into a bowl.

“No, but it’s fine,” He says, and you sigh sympathetically, because you both know it really isn’t. He pulls out a chair for you at the small kitchen table, and you sit side by side. “You know, I was thinking, since you’re busy working on your writing, maybe I could put an ad out in the paper for some help.” He says, and you look up at him with a playful brow raised.

“The paper?” You ask, and he shrugs, a smile into his mug. No one reads the paper anymore, not in such an age of digital and technological advancements. You weren’t even sure the last time you _saw _a newspaper was, let alone looked for an ad in one.

“The farmers have a community newsletter type thing. I remember reading the cartoons in the Sunday edition, but there were always personal ads. People looking for help with cattle, with produce, I’m sure I could put out one asking for handy-work.” Kylo explains, and you hum to yourself while you think.

On the one hand, it would be a great opportunity to meet some new people. You weren’t entirely sure if such an opportunity would come often to you, living way out here. If the newsletter was still up and running, what harm was there in putting out an ad?

But on the other hand, you think as you tap your nails against the mug, it could be a really wonderful bonding experience for you and your husband. You weren’t the most handy person in the world, but you figure, if you’re going to live on a ranch, what better time to learn than now?

**(If you agree to put out an ad, continue to chapter 3) (If you decide to help Kylo yourself, jump to chapter 4) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Mentions of family death, allusions to violence, but mostly fluff. It is only the first chapter after-all!


	3. Ad

No, you think, you really aren’t the best equipped to do such intense renovation work as the house needs. And you desperately want it to be done well, to the best that it can be, to bring it back to its former glory – if for no other reason than to help Kylo heal. He is a big, strong man, but he can’t do all this alone, not all by himself.

Besides, you think, neither you nor Kylo were strapped for cash, not by any means. If you could help support a local family business with a job like this, one that was sure to take a long time and require a lot of labor, well, then you’d be happy to do so.

“I think that’s a great idea honey.” You decide finally, putting your mug down and walking into the living room to look for your purse. You always carried a small pad of paper and about five different kinds of pens on you at all times, “Do you want me to write it up?” You ask once you’ve found it, once you come back to the kitchen.

“Would you? That’d be great, thank you.” Kylo wraps his arms around your middle, rests his chin on your shoulder as you write in clear clean letters:

_Help Wanted!_

_Historic farmhouse – complete renovation (help us restore our family home!) _

_Will pay well! Please contact Mr. & Mrs. Kylo Ren at:_

_Skywalker Ranch, Sweetwater co. WY_

“I need to go into town to pick up groceries, cleaning supplies, that sort of thing, I can drop this off at the news station, if it’s still where I remember it.” Kylo says with a smile as he picks up the slip of paper, careful of the drying ink.

You know what he’s smiling at, at the little _Mr. & Mrs._, the first time you’ve ever really put that down on a piece of paper after the wedding. You smile right back at him, nudge his calf with your toes until he’s fully grinning.

“Do you want me to come with you?” You ask, and he grows so shy – as if you didn’t just get married a week ago, as if you hadn’t been in love all your lives.

“Only if you want to.” He shrugs, bashful in the way that means he absolutely wants you to join, and you sip the scalding coffee as quickly as you can without totally burning your tongue, something which makes him laugh as he passes you on his way to the bedroom.

* * *

It takes almost forty-minutes to get all the way into town, into town properly anyway. About half an hour into the drive there are houses that spring up, scattered about. Nothing that could really be called a suburb, not the way you think of it anyway. But ten minutes more and suddenly you’re driving down Main Street, a bustling road filled with people walking, biking, driving.

It’s just the one road, but it’s got all the sorts of stores you might want, anything you might need. There’s a grocery, a pharmacy, the library. A couple store-fronts selling clothes, home goods. There are restaurants, bars, but none of them, nothing on the street is a chain. Everything is mom-and-pop, established signs and plaques boasting over one hundred years of operation.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this? It was always my dream, getting out of the city, out into nature. I love how wide open everything is.” You say, the sun-bleached pavement smooth under the tires of the truck.

“Good, because we’ve got just about nothing but nature.” Kylo replies, as he parks the car in front of the grocery store.

The little bell at the door dings when he opens it for you, and you’re surprised to see it’s busy. People must get their shopping done on Saturdays, you think, as you grab a shopping cart, already fishing around in your bag for the list you wrote up on the drive over.

You’re just about to start roaming the aisles when an old man recognizes your husband and slaps the register happily.

“Benny! How ya doin’ son?” He calls out, lifting the little swing door enough to get through it, to come greet Kylo with a big hug.

“Mr. Dormer I go by Kylo now.” He patiently responds, giving a stiff hug to the sweet guy.

He’s got to be over seventy, you think, with deep tanned, weathered skin and a missing front tooth. He wears a faded baseball cap and a denim shirt tucked into bright blue jeans, almost as blue as the turquoise bolo tie he has around his neck.

“Kyle-o, now that’s a name! You earn that in the city?” Mr. Dormer chuckles good-naturedly, and Kylo blushes.

“Something like that.” He mumbles, but Mr. Dormer is far too excited to register it.

“By gosh by golly you look just like Anakin, you know that? Have his eyes.” He says, and you give Kylo’s hand a squeeze reassuringly when the tips of his ears go red at the comparison. “And this! Who is this lovely young thing?” Mr. Dormer asks, and now Kylo blushes for real.

“Mr. Dormer, this is my wife, (Y/N).” He introduces you, and the old man takes your hand and gives it a big kiss.

“_The _(Y/N)? The one you used to spend all summer bitchin’ and moanin’ about wishin’ you could go smooch instead of helping your grandpappy till the land?” He chuckles again, and you raise a pleased eyebrow, very amused.

“Mr. Dormer _please_ – ” Kylo starts, because now he’s drawing some attention, and if there’s one thing Kylo didn’t want, it was the public’s attention.

“Oh I don’t mean to embarrass you Kyle-o, it’s just nice to see a new face round here.” He waves him off, but you can tell he’s sincere.

“We stopped by because we’ve moved into the farmhouse, and there’s nothing in it.” You say kindly, gesturing to the long list of things you need to pick up.

“Don’t let me stop you, in fact when you’re all ready to go I’ll give you the friends and family discount.” Mr. Dormer winks, and Kylo just reaches out to shake his hand.

“Thank you Mr. Dormer, it means a lot to us.” Kylo says, but once again, the man just waves him off with a weathered smile. Before Kylo turns away, he pats his pocket where the little slip of paper you wrote up lives. “You don’t happen to know if they still publish that weekly newsletter, do you?” He asks, and Mr. Dormer scoffs as if offended.

“Oh ‘course they do! Three buildings down, can’t miss it.” He replies, but he does so with a wink, and you simply shake your head, tug Kylo happily down the aisles.

When the cart is full and everything on the list has been crossed off, you load up the bed of the truck and walk hand in hand down the three buildings, where just as Mr. Dormer said, stands proud and tall the publishing house. Inside it is a staff of only three people, so you figure might as well walk right up to the front desk, greet the woman there with a smile.

“Ben!” The woman with a little nameplate that says Stephanie gasps in recognition when you and Kylo stand before her.

“Hey Steph, it’s Kylo now.” He says, and you already feel bad for him, because you know this is going to be a trend. She gives an apologetic glance, but Kylo just moves on, “Me and my wife would like to run this ad please – honey how long do you think?” Kylo asks, turning to you.

“Well, how much is it?” You ask, trying to do the mental calculations.

“Well we charge by the line.” Stephanie says, chewing her gum.

“Understandable, we’ve got uh,” Kylo looks down at the little slip of paper, “Four lines?”

“Alrighty then that’ll be four dollars.” Stephanie replies, and you both frown.

“That’s it?” He asks, at the same time as you go, “Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am. Dollar per line, always has been, always will be.” Stephanie says proudly, pointing to a small hand-painted wooden sign that reads the exact same.

“And is that per week?” You ask, still not fully recovered from the shock of how criminally inexpensive that is.

“Yes ma’am, so having the ad run for about a month would make it sixteen bucks even.” Stephanie nods, and you suddenly grow concerned.

“Do you think it’ll be a month before someone reaches out?” You ask Kylo, and he looks at you, chews his lip and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

“You can always do a two week run and then renew it if you’d like.” Stephanie suggests, twirling a curly lock of hair around her finger, “First ad will go out tomorrow, since it’s Saturday and all.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” You agree, sliding over a new ten dollar bill, telling her to keep the change as you leave.

* * *

Back at the house, Kylo is quiet as he helps you put the groceries away. Thankfully the fridge and freezer are working fine, electricity up and running no problem once you called and made a new contract with the utilities company. One of the benefits of living with farmers was that everything from the grocery store came from right there, all the milk and cheese fresh, all the fruits and vegetables ripe and perfect. The meats were priced well, and really the only thing you splurged on was a cake from the bakery, a small little chocolate thing to celebrate the first real day in the new house.

“Are you happy here?” Kylo asks, feeding you a forkful of the fudge icing, “Like, will this place make you happy?”

He’s so serious, so genuine, that you almost think something is wrong. But he’s got that look in his eye again, and you nod, because of course, of course you are.

“I’m happy wherever I am, as long as I’m with you.” You say simply, and he groans, just puts more cake in your mouth, making you giggle.

“You’re cheesy.” He grumbles, but he’s blushing.

“Maybe, but you married me.” You wink, “Just think, once the place is all fixed up, it’s going to be so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.” Kylo responds, and you laugh, get up from the little kitchen table to put the forks and plates in the sink to deal with later.

“Who’s the cheesy one now?” You tease, when suddenly something rushes under your foot and you drop the things you’re holding in shock with a, “Oh shit!”

“You okay?” Kylo is by your side, and your heart races until you hear a soft meow coming from behind a cabinet where whatever it was that spooked you had gone to hide.

“Yeah, there’s just, we have a cat, apparently.” You sigh, before smiling to yourself, feeling silly.

“Huh?” Kylo frowns, and you walk over to the pantry where a beautiful calico kitty has scurried.

Her fur is glossy and thick, and she doesn’t look emaciated. When you open your hands to her, she sniffs your palms before headbutting you, purring loudly. Poor thing was well fed but in desperate need for some company, if no one had been around as long as Kylo had said.

“She’s nice, look. No collar though, probably lives in the barn or something.” You say, and the cat lets you scoop her up into your arms.

You’ll probably need to take her into town for a vet check-up, but for now, she doesn’t look sick and you can’t see any fleas, so you let her down gently. She winds around and around your ankles, brushing her fur against your calves, and you give Kylo a pleading look.

He doesn’t say anything, only rolls his eyes and leaves the room, grabbing the broom and the mop on his way, which means you are victorious.

* * *

The next morning, you’re lounging in bed trying to get a decent phone signal to check your twitter when there’s a knocking at the door.

“Honey? Could you get that?” Kylo calls from the bathroom where he has managed to fix the plumbing and take a shower.

You abandon your phone, a signal no where to be found, and wrap yourself up in your robe. Once downstairs, you look through the peephole of the front door.

Standing on the porch are three men, one much older, and two younger ones who look to be identical twins. The twins are boys really, just barely getting through puberty from the looks of it. They’re clearly family, sharing the same crop of red hair and sprinkling of freckles, and when you open the door they all give you the same smile. It’s a slightly disconcerting smile, particularly on one of the twins, who looks like he isn’t used to the gesture, like it hurts his face almost.

“Mornin’ miss!” The eldest reaches a hand out for you to shake, “My name’s Brendol, these are my sons, Armitage and William, you must be (Y/N)?” He asks.

“Yes, that’s right, it’s a pleasure to meet you, but what can I do for you?” You ask in return, shaking his hand so as to not be rude.

“Actually, it’s what we can do for you – we saw this ad you put out in the paper?” Brendol unfolds the newspaper clipping, and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Jesus that was quick!” You can’t help but exclaim, you really had thought it would take much longer, days at the very least, for someone to want to reach out, but a quick glance at the clock told you it was not even seven o’clock in the morning, the sun taking its time to rise with the changing seasons.

“Let’s not take the Lord’s name in vain now.” Brendol says, entirely too cheerfully, and you blink, feeling scolded.

“Oh, sorry.” You cringe just a little, no one cared about something like that in the city, you’d have to be careful so as to not accidentally offend anyone here in the mountains. “My husband’s just finishing up in the shower, please come in, can I pour you some coffee?” You open the door wide enough to invite them in, and they all smile once again, almost on cue, all together.

“That’d be mighty fine, thank you.” Brendol says, and you step aside so they can pass.

You offer them a seat at the table and set to finding mugs, making sure your robe is tied tightly around your waist so that you don’t accidentally expose yourself, both for their and your sakes.

“I’m sorry for not being more presentable, I honestly didn’t think we’d hear from anyone so soon.” You explain with a little chuckle, trying to be friendly, “Or at least, so early.”

“F-farm folk get up with sun and go down with it. You can expect us h-here helpin’ from dusk till’ dawn, if you think we’d – if you decide we’re a good fit.” One of the boys, William says with a very soft voice. He seems nice, you think. Shy, but nice.

“That’s very kind of you, but if you don’t mind I’m going to leave that decision to my husband. He knows more about being handy than I do, that’s for sure.” You chuckle, and Brendol gives you another one of those smiles.

“No problem at all.” He nods understandingly, and you feel some awkward tension rising.

Luckily, the coffee pot comes to a stop just then, and you are quick to pour a mug for the man, a little thing of cream and sugar already on the table. 

“Armitage, William, would you like coffee too?” You ask, reaching for mugs for them, but the boys protest right away.

“Oh, no thank you m-ma’am, no that’s alright.” William puts his hands up as if you’ve just threatened to hit him, and you frown.

These were strange people, you think to yourself, before shaking the thought away. It wasn’t ever good to judge, you remind yourself, because you were sure that to them, you and Kylo would be pretty weird too.

“Juice, if you happen to have?” Armitage asks, and that’s an easy enough request.

“Of course.” You pour them both a tall glass of orange juice, before you begin to grow too uncomfortable, just standing there while they drink. “Would you excuse me a minute, I’m just going to let my husband know we have visitors.”

You practically bolt up the stairs, scaring the poor kitty who you still need to think of a name for. The shower is still running when you open the door to the

“(Y/N!)” Your husband pokes his head around the plastic liner, the two of you not having gotten around to getting a real shower curtain just yet, and you can’t help but smile at the way his hair is plastered to his face, how his ears stick out, “Hey honey, would you look at this the water pressure’s great!”

“That’s wonderful sweetheart but there are people downstairs in the kitchen, they want to talk to you about the handywork.” You gesture towards the kitchen, and Kylo frowns.

“Fuck, already?” He asks, and you nod, desperate to not be left alone with them anymore.

“I know! That’s what I said.” You say, and he’s already reaching for the handle, pushing it to stop the water flow as you ask, “Come down soon?”

“Yeah, give me like two seconds.” He nods, and you sigh with relief, heading back down the stairs to the kitchen where Brendol and his sons still sit at the table.

You more or less twiddle your thumbs for a minute, before something dawns on you.

“You know it’s funny, but, I don’t think I put my first name down on the ad.” You say, trying to keep the conversation light, aloof.

“Pardon?” Brendol asks, and you shrug.

“When you came to the door,” You explain, fiddling with the tie of your robe, “You said, ‘you must be (Y/N).’ And I am, only, I don’t think that was anywhere on the ad. Do you happen to know my husband at all?” You ask.

“No, no I don’t believe we’ve met.” Brendol says as he licks his lips, appraises you in a way that makes you want to draw at the same time as your husband comes bounding down the stairs two steps at a time.

“Hey! Sorry for the wait, I’m Kylo, Kylo Ren.” He extends a hand, and all three of them stand up, all give him a great big smile.

“That’s a funny name.” Armitage comments off-handedly, but Brendol only smacks him upside the head, hard.

You and Kylo both exchange a quick glance, but your husband isn’t intimidated.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He says, before gesturing to the front door, “Would you guys like to come with me, I can show you the property while we talk?”

They agree, and the four of them go outside, likely to appraise the level of work that needs to be done outside before any work can start inside.

You take the opportunity to go upstairs and change, get yourself ready for the day and go through your full routine as best as you can with mostly everything still packed. There’s a draft in the room from the poor ventilation which brings in the cold, so you throw on a sweater and one of Kylo’s big jackets over it before peeking out through the bay window.

There had been…issues, in the past. Things that had gotten Kylo in trouble, back before he was Kylo. Issues you didn’t want anyone knowing about, that no one could go asking about. It was a big draw to moving here, moving away from the city, moving away from the past.

You didn’t like the feeling of this family, of these men. Didn’t like the way they smiled or looked at you, didn’t like the way they acted with one another. You had half a mind to call child protective services, those twins had to be fifteen, sixteen at the most. Your mind keeps flashing to William bracing when you only asked him if he’d like coffee, that can’t…that just can’t be healthy.

But as you watch them walk around the house, they begin to speak expertly about different renovations, different things that need to be done. You can’t hear all of it, not from all the way upstairs, so you creep down the steps, careful of the spots where the wood was weak.

“We’ll be here bright and early tomorrow, thank you again.” You can hear from the front porch as you look through the peephole once more.

“No no, really, thank you.” Kylo says back, waiting for them to climb in their truck which they’ve parked next to yours out front. He puts a hand up to wave with a, “Have a good day, see you.”

You scare him just a little when he opens the door to find you directly behind it, and you search his face to see if they made him as uncomfortable as they made you.

“It went well?” You ask, and Kylo nods, smoothing his hands up your arms and kissing the top of your head as he passes you.

“Yeah, I’m going to draft up a contract for a month’s worth of work, and then we’ll get started.” He responds, going to the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee, it being so early in the day still.

“How much did they ask for?” You ask, doing the same, finally having a moment to relax now that company was gone.

“Nothing.” Kylo hums into his mug, and now his brow is furrowed, and his signature scowl has found its way back to your lips.

“Nothing?” You shake your head, “You can’t give them nothing, that’s taking advantage.”

“I know, I tried telling them that. All they asked was if they could stay in the barn until the month’s up.” Kylo shrugs, and something about that bothers you, but you don’t know why.

“The barn?” You ask, in case you misheard, but Kylo only shrugs again, looking just as confused as you are.

“Yeah, they were kind of insistent about it.” He explains, and you wonder if maybe they had nowhere else to stay, to live.

“That’s...” You don’t know, actually. You don’t know what it is.

“Yeah.” Kylo says, just to say something.

You two exchange a glance, and this time, there’s something strange in the air, something you can’t quite place. 

* * *

You don’t know when exactly they move into the barn, but every day at sunrise they are doing work with Kylo in the house. Every day at sunrise you are woken up to the sounds of saws and hammers, drills and nail-guns.

Some days you greet them, but other days by the time you get dressed and ready for the day, they’re too engrossed in their labor to talk for too long, and other days still you avoid them entirely. They’re good workers, very good workers, and fast too. You look around the house, compare it to how it was just a few days ago to how it is now, and the difference is staggering.

Between the four of them, they’ve managed to completely redo the wood paneling on the outside of the house in a week. They tackle one room at a time, patching walls and fixing wiring, replacing the glass windows. You bring them glasses of water, of juice, tea, whatever they ask for, make sandwiches that they accept with a smile. You sweep and mop and dust after them, and soon the place is looking really nice, looking liveable, and not run-down, not a code violation – if there even were codes out here.

They are good workers but.

But.

The smiles…you don’t know.

“You ever notice something, odd about them?” You ask Kylo one day, as you’re both driving back home from a trip into town.

This time to pick up some various hardware supplies they need. You’re almost at a point where you can start wall-papering and painting the house, and it’s exciting, so exciting to see it come back to life. Kylo had managed to save a few scraps of the paper, a few chips of paint, and you had gone to the home improvement store to match it. Lucky for you, nothing ever seemed to change, and his mood is so high when he discovers the exact same colors and patterns are still there.

You have bundles and cans of it in the bed of the truck, as you pull through the gate once more, crossing onto your property. The sun is setting behind the mountains, casting that beautiful orangey-pinky glow across the land, and everything seems more or less picturesque, perfect.

“About who?” Kylo asks, lost in thought, tapping his gloved hands against the steering wheel to the music from the radio.

“The Huxes.” You clarify, and he frowns.

“What do you mean?” He asks, immediately frowning, protective, so incredibly protective.

“I don’t know. Something about them creeps me out.” You say softly when the truck pulls up to the front of the house, the men in question nowhere in sight. “I don’t like the way they stare.” You whisper.

The stares had been the worst, worse than the smiles, you think. It was a haunting feeling, the kind where you could tell someone was looking at you, could tell you were being watched, everywhere from the living room to the closet.

And yet, each and every time you try to catch someone’s gaze, no one seems to be paying you any attention.

Kylo’s grip tightens on the gear shift as he puts the truck into park, reaches across the bench to kiss you soundly. 

“I’ll talk to them about it, the month is almost over, and then they’ll be gone.” He says, not needing to or wanting to question you about it, taking your word for it, and for that you’re grateful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were feeling so uncomfortable, I don’t want you to ever feel like that.” 

You just nod, so relieved, so in love with your husband for not pushing the issue, that you can only kiss him back soundly.

You both carry things to the front porch, when suddenly you scream, let out the most horrified sound, drop the paint cants onto the wood as you cover your mouth in disgust and horror. 

“Oh my god!” You scream, “Fuck – oh my god!”

“Honey?” Kylo drops what he’s carrying too and rushes to your side, collects you in his arms as you start to sob.

“Kylo there’s – she’s – something killed her!” You wail, not even able to get anything out, not able to articulate it because the image is so gruesome that you can’t get it out of your head, no room for anything else.

“Killed who, what?” He asks, and you point to the other side of the porch where the cat, the poor sweet calico, lays decapitated in a puddle of slowly drying blood.

Flies swarm her, and you’re on the verge of vomiting. She must have been out there all day, all by herself, and you cry cry cry, you never even had the chance to name her.

“Look at that, that’s not – that’s not natural oh my god they took her head, Kylo why would they take her head?” You bury your face in his neck, and he just holds you close, soothes your back, tries and tries to help you calm down.

“What the fuck happened, you don’t think…?” Kylo asks, staring at the poor thing, and you hiccup, trying to clear your head so you can think.

**(If you blame the men jump to chapter 5) (If you blame it on wild animals jump to chapter 6)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Animal death, animal cruelty, gore (relating to the animal death), blood.


	4. DIY

After a few seconds thought, you decide no, you want to help him. Between the two of you, you could splurge on some really expensive parts since you wouldn’t have to worry about paying anyone for labor. And the way Kylo is looking at you, standing there shirtless and sun-kissed, well, you think if anyone was going to be around your man ogling him, it better be his newly wedded wife.

“I was thinking it might be nice if we worked on the house together.” You decide, making him absolutely light up. You take a big swig of your coffee and give him a playful wink as the birds chirp just outside the broken windows, “You know how I’ve been watching all those shows on HGTV? All the renovation ones?”

“Okay but you’re not actually an electrician or a plumber or anything honey.” Kylo snorts into his own mug, and you bite your lip in a chastised grin, reach out your foot and nudge him gently.

“Maybe not, but I can use power tools and I know how to follow instructions like nobody’s business.” You point out, and he does raise his mug in acknowledgment to that with a chuckle.

“Touché.” He says, and you just love him so much, you put the mug down and get up from the small rickety table to get all in his business, press yourself clad in only your robe, up against him.

“I figured you could direct me, Mr. Handyman, and whatever I can’t figure out myself, well, we always have YouTube.” You say, an attempt at being seductive, your lids lowered, and your mouth pouted.

It works, and he sets his mug down on the table hard, wraps his arms around you. His skin is warmed and already a little sweaty from the work he was doing in the kitchen, just some simple tidying up with the broom and a duster. He kisses you, licks into your mouth nice and slow, wet, hungry. He tastes like the roasted coffee beans he always buys, some locally grown brand from the big city that he’s now going to have to give up, living all the way out here in the farmlands.

But he doesn’t care, not if the way he’s holding onto you is any indication, doesn’t care about the coffee, only being here with you.

“You really want to work on the house with me?” He asks, eyes dark and brimming with nervous thoughts.

You know what he’s asking, what he really means.

_You really want to live here with me? _

He doesn’t need to say it, but he doesn’t need to. You’ve been through enough together, enough shared trauma that you can read him all too well, the best out of anyone. And the unasked question in his smoldering eyes breaks your heart, because how could you not? With all he’s done for you – all you’ve done for one another. How much you love one another.

“Of course I do.” You reply, answering both the spoken and unspoken, answering every doubt he could have had. “This house means the world to you, I know that. If I can do my part to restore it to its former glory, then I will.” You mean it, mean every word, always.

He nods, gives your hand a tight squeeze, kisses you. You kiss him back, right on the edge where the scar on his face is gnarled and brutal, feather light kisses letting him know everything is alright.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky, just, considering everything.” He says, and you sigh.

“Ky, there isn’t anyone I’d rather be with. I know it’s hard, I know it is. But we’re going to get through it together.” You reassure him, “And when it’s all said and done, and the house is put back together, we’re going to go out and get some cattle, maybe some sheep, and I’m going to make us homemade cheese just like Padme used to.” You grin.

He smiles at that, at the memory of the gentle baa-ing of Padme’s flock, the memory of frozen sheep’s milk accompanied by fresh strawberries. You raise your eyebrows in a comforting manner, as if to ask if that’s alright, if he’s alright. He’s not, but he’s trying, you know by the way he nods, and the attempt is worth more than you can say.

“I think our first trip should be to go into town and get stuff to fix the shower.” Kylo says eventually, breaking the heavy seriousness of the moment by catching a whiff of his underarms and making a face, scrunching up his nose. “The water’s been turned back on and the electric works, but that shower…”

“Alright alright, good thing we have deodorant.” You laugh, playfully swatting at his chest as you wrangle yourself out of his grasp.

* * *

It takes almost forty-minutes to get all the way into town, into town properly anyway. About half an hour into the drive there are houses that spring up, scattered about. Nothing that could really be called a suburb, not the way you think of it anyway. But ten minutes more and suddenly you’re driving down Main Street, a bustling road filled with people walking, biking, driving.

It’s just the one road, but it’s got all the sorts of stores you might want, anything you might need. There’s a grocery, a pharmacy, the library. A couple store-fronts selling clothes, home goods. There are restaurants, bars, but none of them, nothing on the street is a chain. Everything is mom-and-pop, established signs and plaques boasting over one hundred years of operation.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this? It was always my dream, getting out of the city, out into nature. I love how wide open everything is.” You say, the sun-bleached pavement smooth under the tires of the truck.

“Good, because we’ve got just about nothing but nature.” Kylo replies, as he parks the car in front of the home supply store.

It’s surprisingly modern inside, with all the latest gadgets that one might need when doing any sort of renovations. There are aisles and aisles of all sorts of things, plumping, wood paneling, bolts and nuts and screws, and all the power cordless tools to go along with them. An old woman turns to greet you both when the ding of the doorbell sounds, and she nearly drops her armful of foam insulation tube at the sight of Kylo.

“Bless my soul if it isn’t Benjamin! Benny boy how are ya?” She hurriedly puts everything down, rushes over and scoops Kylo’s six-foot-three frame into her arms, giving him a tight squeeze while his face goes beet red.

“Mrs. Carlton I go by Kylo now, and this is my wife, (Y/N).” He explains, and she nods in understanding, gives a cheeky wink.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say, holding your hand out for a shake, but she just leans in for a big embrace as well.

You of course oblige, and are surprised to see that while she may look frail, she’s got something of a good grip when she hugs you tight.

“Oh ain’t she a beaut! You got yourself mighty lucky with this one Benny – now don’t tell me, you’re here on account of the ol’ farmhouse needing repairs, ain’t that right?” Mrs. Carlton asks, a wistful look in her eye.

“How’d you know that?” Kylo asks in return, and the woman just tsks out a laugh.

“Oh folks talk, believe me. When I heard that state agents were snoopin’ around your granddaddy’s farm you can believe me and the guys went out to tell ‘em what for. We thought they were trespassing, but then they told us about ol’ Anakin.” She says, her voice going soft towards the end.

You look at Kylo, and Kylo looks at his feet, trying not to get worked up or emotional out in public. Being home in your arms was one thing, being in the middle of the doorknob aisle was another.

“Yeah.” Is all he says, voice thick.

Mrs. Carlton releases you from her hug, and you move over to Kylo’s side, wrapping your arm around his, comforting him.

“I’m real sorry to hear that sonny, real sorry. He loved you very much; you ought to know, any time you’d come over for the summers it’d be all he could talk about.” Mrs. Carlton says gently, and that make’s Kylo’s head snap up, eyes wide.

“Really?” He asks, and your heart breaks all over. All over again, for the way he looks so young, the way he looks like he did back before…well…everything.

“Really.” She nods, and for a moment you think she might cry too, but then she’s walking away, towards the register, the insulation tubing all but forgotten. “Now listen, I know that house has seen better days, so let me tell you what. Anything you need, you ain’t paying full price for it. I’d offer a hand myself to help but I’m afraid the last time I climbed up a ladder was the last time I climbed up anything.” She chuckles on her way across the store, making you frown.

“No, Mrs. Carlton please we are more than able to pay for everything, really.” You insist, not wanting to take any advantage, least of all of an old lady.

“Sweetheart I’m sure you can, but I won’t accept it. Angel!” Mrs. Carlton calls, calls again until a younger woman, probably around your age if a little younger, comes out from the back where she was no doubt on break, “Angel honey, could you please help _Kylo_ and (Y/N) find everything they’re lookin’ for? She’ll take real good care of you.” Mrs. Carlton winks at Kylo, who only blushes all over again.

Angel leads Kylo down an aisle after taking a look at the list he had written up before leaving for town. You’re about to follow them, when you stop and take one more look at the kind old woman who was now busying herself behind the counter.

“Thank you, Mrs. Carlton.” You say sincerely, for the warm welcome, for the kind words, and for the understanding.

She only waves it off, but her eyes are wet when she regards you.

“You both are so young.” She says, and you nod, “Too young to be dealin’ with such heartache. But heartache hits us all, it doesn’t care how old we are, how prepared we are. Love is blind, but death is deaf.” She sighs, and you hum, mull that over.

You begin to walk away, when suddenly she asks with great urgency,

“Can I ask a favor?”

You stop in your tracks and rush back to the counter, eager to help her with anything. She takes your hand in between her own, spotted and wrinkled but soft nonetheless.

“Of course!” You say, because of course.

“If you happen to come across Padme’s old recipe book in that there kitchen, would you make me a sour cherry pie?” She asks, and you break out into a big smile, nod happily. 

“Mrs. Carlton I’ll make you a pie every Sunday, if you’d like.” You tell her and she lets you go with a big laugh so that you can join your husband on his quest for two inch pipe.

* * *

You both get to work right away, when you’re back home. You smile at that, at the thought of how easy it was to call this place home. You’d not even been there a week, and yet you’re already thinking of how the dishes could go here, the dvd collection could go there. You’re envisioning where to put the vases on which tables in which rooms, where to hang the artwork and the family photos.

You don’t get very far, not the first day. Only the bathroom and the kitchen are dealt with, getting the plumbing cleaned and clear for the toilet and the shower, getting the sinks hooked up, the floors mopped and swept, counters dusted and polished. The fridge in the kitchen works, and you spend an entire hour cleaning it out, wiping it down, making it fit to put the drinks and snacks you’ve stashed in your cooler in the bed of the truck.

It’s dark by the time it’s all finished, the sun having gone down long ago. If you had to guess, it was probably ten o’clock at night. But the electricity worked, so you flipped the light switches on, illuminated the space with the soft golden glow of old bulbs that would absolutely need replacing, lest they burst from years of disuse.

“Shower with me.” Kylo says when you meet him at the top of the stairs, careful to avoid the ones that creak and groan. That’d be a project for another day, you think, replacing the wood there.

But for now, you’re more than eager to shower off the muck and grime and sweat of the day.

Kylo had done a damn good job on the bathroom, the tile all scrubbed and bleached, new shower-head and curtains, even picked up a soft bath-mat to catch the water when you stepped out after you were both clean.

You admire the job he did, but also him, his body, the wat the water runs in rivulets down his sculpted chest and arms, his broad back, those thick thighs.

“Careful sweetheart,” He says, voice low, “You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to fuck you.” He says it like that’d be a punishment, like it’d be a bad thing, like you’re not eager, desperate for it.

In response you tug him forward to meet his lips in a searing kiss, opened mouth and hot, hotter than the water which steams up the mirror just outside the shower. It takes so little to get him groaning into your mouth for you, takes so little to get him to pant and his hands to twitch as they reach for you – but they’re reaching for you now, and you let him grope and grab and bruise you under the hot spray, as soapy foam slides down your skin, washing away the stress of the day.

He’s hard for you, turns you around and presses your chest to the cold tile where the water doesn’t hit, as he settles behind you. You brace yourself against the wall to get some purchase, some leverage, as you press your hips back, encouraging him as he slides the head of his cock through your folds.

“Oh,” You sigh happily, suck in a sharp breath when he nudges it further and further into you, hips moving moving moving back and forth to rock all the way into you.

He buries his face in the crook of your shoulder, laves his tongue over your pulse as he fucks you steadily, building up momentum and speed. You have to be careful, in the shower, the two of you have absolutely slipped before, and it would be bad luck to get hurt now, on the first fuck in the new house. New home.

He grunts in your ear as he moves faster, really begins to find a good rhythm that has his flesh smacking against yours, has you moaning loud, echoing, bouncing off the walls of the bathroom, fighting the rush of the shower spray.

His cock feels so good inside you, and his hand slips around your throat to squeeze tightly there, to cut off your air flow just enough to make you deliciously dizzy.

Between your panting and his groaning, you almost miss it – the noise.

But there it is again, something foreign, not from your bodies, not from the bathroom. Your eyes fly open and you tense up immediately.

“What was that?” You ask, voice a whisper, and Kylo stops as soon as he notices you’re no longer in the throes of passion.

“What was what?” Kylo asks, immediately shutting off the water, ears trained, trying to listen.

The sound happens again, and you both look at one another, both naked and vulnerable. 

“That!” You hiss, scrabbling for a towel, “There’s someone at the door.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Kylo groans, scrubs a hand over his face and gets out of the shower, quickly grabs a towel for himself and wipes down, throwing on his robe that he had pulled out from the suitcase. “Baby stay here, I’m going to see what’s going on.”

“Don’t!” You squeak, towel wrapped around your body, hugging it close, eyes wide. Your heart is racing, and you can’t explain it, can’t explain the sudden anxiety you feel.

“Why not?” Kylo asks, already sticking his big feet into slippers, already combing his fingers through his sopping wet hair.

“I don’t like it, it’s the dead of night what if – ” You start to worry, chew your lip.

Kylo put his hands on your arms to calm and comfort you.

“If it’s the dead of night and they’re knocking politely on our door, they must be in trouble. Folks around here help one another, this isn’t the city where everyone’s out to get you.” He says with a bit of a chuckle.

“Please?” You ask anyway, hoping that maybe if you just ignore them, they’ll leave.

“I’m just going to see if everything is okay, I won’t let them in, I promise.” Kylo shakes his head, those good boy instincts coming through too strong.

“I’m coming with you.” You decide, pulling on your robe too.

Standing on the porch in nothing but the light of the moon are three men; one much older, and two younger ones who look to be identical twins. The twins are boys really, just barely getting through puberty from the looks of it. They’re clearly family, sharing the same crop of red hair and sprinkling of freckles, and when Kylo opens the door they all give you the same smile.

It’s a slightly disconcerting smile, particularly on one of the twins, who looks like he isn’t used to the gesture, like it hurts his face almost.

“Good evening sir, ma’am, we’re so sorry to bother you at this time of night.” The eldest, maybe their father, says. “My name is Brendol Hux, and these are my sons, Armitage and William.” The man, Brendol, has an accent, something thick and heavy but not one you can really place.

“How can we help you?” Kylo asks, shaking the man’s hand, shaking it still even when he won’t let go. When it’s awkward. When the shake has gone on for too long. 

“Our car broke down about a mile up the road.” Brendol says, still shaking Kylo’s hand, nails starting to dig in too tight.

Kylo rips his hand out of the man’s grip, and you try your best, your very best not to notice, not to scream.

“Shit, I’m sorry, engine trouble?” Kylo wonders, but the younger looking boy, the one with the long red hair, William, shakes his head.

“No we think we, we think we accidentally hit some nails, our tires busted.” The boy stammers, eyes big and blue and watery. They’re so light that they’re almost see-through. They look sad, you think.

“I’m afraid we can’t help you, we don’t have any spare tires.” You say, already ready to close the door on them, when Brendol laughs.

“Oh no! No that’s not why we’re here,” He says, making you and Kylo both frown, “We were hoping you might let us spend the evening in your barn, just until sunrise when we can flag down a tow-truck or someone who might have a spare.”

“I can call a tow-truck for you.” You announced happily, glad to be able to help and get them off of your property. You had already connected the phone lines that afternoon, so it wouldn’t be any issue, not for local numbers anyway.

“No!” William says far too loudly, too panicked, and Kylo frowns.

“No?” He asks, voice deep, shoulders square.

Armitage and Brendol both shoot William a look, one that makes you wonder if maybe you should call Child Protective Services instead.

“What my son means, is that there’s no one awake right now, no one would answer.” Brendol says easily, smiling politely, smiling in that way that makes you break out into goosebumps, because you feel like you’ve seen that face before, but you can’t place where, or why.

You and Kylo look at one another, and you silently debate what to do.

They looked to be genuinely in distress, and Kylo was right, people helped one another around here. You felt awful about the thought of leaving them to fuck off into the night. They had clearly come to you for help, must have seen the lights on and thought this was their only option, or else they wouldn’t have shown up. If you agree to let them stay, it wouldn’t even be inside the house. They asked to sleep in the barn, which is a good many yards away. It’s not like anyone else was sleeping in there, you reasoned.

On the other hand, you didn’t like the idea of strangers on your property. The phone lines worked, and maybe you could call the police or something too while you were at it. You don’t like the way poor William cowers in fear of his brother, his father. You want to hug him close, but at the same time you want them all to go very very far away.

What will you do?

** [If you agree to let them stay, jump to chapter 7] [If you decide to call the tow-truck anyway, jump to chapter 8] **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> NSFW content (shower sex)


	5. Blame Them

You get yourself together enough to look at the cat once more, and you’re filled with rage.

The head is cut clean off, this was a cruel, gruesome torturous act. There are no bites, nothing to suggest that an animal did it, nothing to suggest that this was a predator who was hunting its prey, no, this was very clearly intentional, and it made you sick.

You and Kylo had been out all day, had been in town, making the most of the drive away from the farm, making the most of some time together without the looming presence of Brendol and his sons. The very same which were the only three people who could have done such a thing, you think, as you set your angry eyes on the barn.

“It was them! It had to be, Kylo it had to be them.” You hiss, “No wild animal just fucking bites off the head of a cat, Kylo you have to tell them to leave.”

Kylo keeps you tucked against him, but you can tell he’s shaken. It takes a lot, to shake your husband, considering. Considering the things he’s done. He ushers you inside, quickly and carefully, helps you so that you can watch your step on the lip of the door, sits you down as he begins to rummage through the closet in the hallway.

“Okay, you’re right, fuck you’re right.” He says, and you could cry all over again when he pulls out a shovel and some cleaning supplies. “Christ what do they want with a fucking – I don’t – I’ll tell them, I’ll tell them.”

“Kylo, I knew something was wrong with them, I knew it.” You’re standing again, following him around the house as he goes through the door, turns to look at the poor cat.

“Stay here, stop – no. Stay here, I’m going to clean this up and find them, okay?” He catches your arms, prevents you from leaving, kisses you when your chin wobbles. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, retreating into the house further and further, going up the stairs to sit in the bay window, to peek through the freshly washed and iron curtains, angry gaze set on the barn.

You watch as he digs a grave for the poor cat, as he carries the shovel with him to the barn. In any other circumstances, you would have been appreciating the way his ass looks in those jeans, the way his broad back and shoulders stretches the fabric of his shirt. But you’re worried for him, worried because if these people had no problem cutting the head off a cat, what would they do to him?

Brendol stands outside the barn with a friendly smile, and though you can’t hear, you can see just from the body language, just from the posture, that Kylo is livid.

They exchange words, you don’t know what it is exactly that Kylo says, but the gesturing is enough, the pointing to the freshly dug earth, to the bay window where you sit. Brendol snaps his face towards you and you let go of the curtains immediately, hide out of view, not wanting to be seen.

You do hear the yelling, when it happens.

Because of course it happens, and you peek through the window once more, watch as Kylo tears up the contract, watch as Brendol barks for his sons to follow him, watch as they all pile into the truck. William sits in the bed of it, and as they drive away, your heart breaks for him, because you think, you don’t know but you think, you see him cry.

The front door bangs open and your heart leaps, but you realize it’s only Kylo, recognizing his gait as he comes up the stairs.

He sighs, and you meet him in the bedroom, but he is thunderous, stormclouds in his eyes as he slams the bedroom door shut.

“It’s okay,” You say, your turn now to soothe him, his temper not really something you want to aggravate more than already has been, “I’ll help you with whatever still needs to be done, it’ll be okay.”

“Can you just,” He huffs, runs a hand through his hair, “Can I kiss you?”

You lick and bite at your lips, nod as you let him manhandle you onto the bed, nod as you let him peel away all your layers, all your clothes that kept you warm. You don’t need them now, you’ve got Kylo, your own personal space heater, his hands hot as brands when he pushes your sweater up and over your head, when he nearly tears your thermals off.

“I’ve missed this.” You whisper, when he grabs at you, at your body, when he undoes the buckle of his belt, the buttons of his jeans.

It felt like neither of you had a fucking moment to yourself, while these people had been there. Either they were in the house which obviously meant you couldn’t get up to anything too wild with your husband, or they were in the barn, and you worried the sounds might travel in the still quiet of night. Something about that freaked you out, you didn’t want them hearing you, listening to you.

But now, now they were gone, and you finally had a moment longer than stealing a quickie in the shower. You didn’t realize how tense you were, until his hands began massaging at you shoulders, as he began sucking on your neck, kissing your collarbones.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He smudges the words into your skin, and you feel them travel right through you. 

It’s dark now, the sun fully gone, and you can’t help but feel devious, can’t help but kiss him a little harder, shift your body underneath his a little more fully, spread your legs for him. He is so good to you, and while the cat is an awful awful thing to have happened, you can’t bring yourself to be upset for too long.

They’re gone, the men are gone, and you’re giddy from it as you help Kylo shuck his clothes, help him – 

“Kylo,” You say, you freeze, “There’s a light on.”

His head snaps up from where he’s buried it in your cleavage, unfocused gaze trying desperately to look through the dark.

“What?” He asks, and there is the low promise of danger in the back of his throat, the rumble of violence that is sure to spill from his finger tips, if what you say is true.

And of course it’s true, why would you lie? Why would you joke about something like this.

Something like a flickering which comes from the barn, the only light in this moonless night, a candle sitting near the window. You hold your breath, and Kylo holds you, and there is nothing, no sound but the hissing of insects, the hooting of owls. You do not laugh this time.

Instead, you hold your breath, the two of you locked in an embrace, only for a moment, only for you to feel how tight of a grip Kylo has on your thigh, fingers leaving angry indents in your flesh as he pulls away.

He does so quickly, carefully, quietly. He was so quiet, your man.

Deadly.

He yanks his clothes back on and rummages through the bedroom. This room was one of the first to be finished, so things are put away, things are easy to find, and yet he still searches and searches, frantic, ripping through drawers of the dresser and the shelves in the closet.

He pulls out a shotgun, and expertly, carefully loads it with steady hands, methodical.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know, even though you’re already getting out of bed too, already putting your clothes on, your stomach sinking sinking sinking.

What was that noise?

There is a crackling coming from the barn, a cackling. A chattering. What insects made this noise? You don’t know, you don’t like it. You don’t like any of this.

“I’m going to tell them to get the fuck off my property, is where I’m going.” Kylo says, and he does not mean to be harsh with you, but he bares his teeth, his nose pinched up in an angry scowl, he does not like it either.

“Let me go with you.” You whisper, practically plead, but he rounds on you with wide eyes, hard eyes.

“No!” He says, smooths down your hair and kisses you, kisses the top of your head, shakes his own. “No, you’re right, there’s something wrong with them, you have to stay here.”

“Please, please be safe.” You grab his hand when he finally pulls away.

You find he is not afraid, no instead he is angry, brimming with rage, that they would dare endanger you, that they would dare disobey him like this. But you, you are scared. You are scared for you both.

Kylo leaves, disappears down the stairs and you watch him through the window as he sneaks, creeps across the farm, down to the barn.

You chew your nails, a nervous habit, wish for a cigarette. You wish for something, to do something, to help – you have to help somehow!

You could call the cops, yes! That’s it, you could call the cops and the cops would come and they would help you, they would save you, they would – but no, they wouldn’t make it in time, would they? The town is a forty-minute drive away, and the Huxes would be able to see the sirens, hear them. It could put Kylo in more danger, it could blow his cover.

What else was there to do though? You could go after him, could not listen, grab a weapon of your own and join your husband out in the farm, face the Huxes together. He was but one man, only one man going up against three. Two were barely teenagers, but you didn’t trust it, didn’t like it. Something about the one, Armitage, was cold and callous, William shy yes but troubled. They were all deeply troubled.

**(If you want to call the police, jump to chapter 9) (If you want to go after Kylo, jump to chapter 10)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Animal death, animal cruelty, gore (relating to the animal death)


	6. Wild Animals

The first option is just too horrible, too gruesome to believe. These people were strange, but they weren’t crazy, weren’t torturous. No, you decide, it had to have been an animal attack, had to have been. You can’t stop the tears from spilling once more, and you let Kylo hold you tight, so tight, because the poor thing, that poor cat – you hadn’t even had a chance to give it a name.

“Do you think we have wolves?” You ask seriously, trying to think of what kinds of animals would go after a barn kitty, what kind of creature would be so brutal, “Do you think the Huxes might have seen, might know something?”

Kylo just squeezes you tighter, and you cry, sniffle into his neck, into his shoulder as he rubs your back. The sun is starting to get very low now, the oranges fading to a mottled purple color, the blue-black of night beginning to creep in.

There are so many stars, you think to yourself, so many that you can practically see the edge of the galaxy.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Kylo says, before gritting his teeth and tensing his hands into fists against your back.

He steps away, but you grab his wrist, pry his hand open and twine your fingers together.

“I’m coming with you.” You say, insistent.

Kylo only looks at you, and you look right back. You were no stranger to the brutality, the violence he could commit when he had to, when he needed to. You didn’t want him to confront these people alone, you weren’t sure of them, you didn’t like them.

You didn’t want Kylo to get hurt.

But you weren’t sure if you didn’t want Kylo to hurt them.

Luckily for the two of you, the father is standing outside the barn when the two of you walk up, he is standing there with a big friendly smile, too friendly of a smile. It showed off all of his teeth.

You weren’t sure, but you didn’t think people had that many teeth.

“Brendol! Excuse me, Brendol.” Kylo calls when you’re only a couple yards away, throws up a hand to wave to him.

He waves back, cheerful as ever.

“Kylo, what can I do you for?” Brendol asks, and Kylo wastes no time in cutting to the chase.

“Something attacked our cat.” He says, and your heart breaks all over again, when you think about her body, cold and alone on the front porch.

“I didn’t know you had a cat.” Brendol replies with a furrowed brow, sounding very much like he was telling the truth.

But he wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, and something felt wrong to you, something felt…off.

“Yes you did, the calico one. The one who always sat on the windowsill while you worked.” You say, hoping to jog his memory, hoping let him know that you caught him in the lie.

“You say something attacked it?” Brendol asks, and now his smile begins to fall.

“Yes, something big, it took her head clean off.” Kylo asks, and he is starting to lose his patience, and this worries you. You don’t like what happens when Kylo loses his patience, don’t want him to explode on these people, don’t want to antagonize them. He takes a deep breath through his nose, “Did you hear anything? Have you heard anything at all the past few nights, wolves, bears?”

“No, no.” Brendol is entirely too nonplussed about this, you think, as he crosses his arms over his chest, as he taps his foot, twists his mouth in thought. “That’s so strange. A bear or wolf wouldn’t bother with some innocent kitty-cat.” He scratches his chin, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Did your sons happen to hear anything?” You ask, moving to step around Brendol, to go into the barn. William had always seemed nice enough, “Maybe we can ask them instead.”

“No!” Brendol steps quickly back in front of you, blocking your path. Your frown only deepens, because that is something suspicious, that is something someone does, when they have something to hide. “No don’t go in there, they’re taking a nap. Wouldn’t want to wake them up, they work so hard, afterall.”

You look at him, look into his eyes, and are chilled when it almost seems like the pale light from the moon reflects through them. They are cold, icy blue and cold, but they are lifeless.

As if a shark had gone blind, those eyes.

“Okay well…” You blink, look away, completely unnerved, step back towards your husband. “When they do wake up, can you please ask them? We’re very shaken up.”

“Will do, Mrs. Ren. Now y’all go up to the house and get some sleep, it’ll all be okay.” Brendol says, and he does so with a smile that makes your skin crawl.

You don’t like how he says that.

But you and Kylo do, go back to the house. You do, and you pass the porch once more, past the poor cat who is now practically being eaten alive by bugs, and you have to pinch your nose, the smell starting to get too strong.

“I’m going to bury her, go inside? It won’t take long.” Kylo whispers, and you nod, eyes misty once again as you go inside.

* * *

From your bay window of the bedroom you watch as he digs a small grave, scoops the cat up with the shovel and nestles her deep within the earth. It isn’t right, you think. None of this is right. You have half a mind to call animal control, but then again, this is the wilderness, what more did you expect?

You should have kept the cat indoors, and you know this now, with a heavy heart.

The front door bangs open and your heart leaps, but you realize it’s only Kylo, recognizing his gait as he comes up the stairs.

He sighs, and you meet him in the bedroom, but he is thunderous, stormclouds in his eyes as he slams the bedroom door shut.

“It’s okay,” You say, your turn now to soothe him, his temper not really something you want to aggravate more than already has been, “We’ll ask the boys in the morning.” You say sadly, but he only clenches his jaw, you can see the muscles working, straining from the force of him.

“Can you just,” He huffs, runs a hand through his hair, “Can I kiss you?”

You lick and bite at your lips, nod as you let him manhandle you onto the bed, nod as you let him peel away all your layers, all your clothes that kept you warm. You don’t need them now, you’ve got Kylo, your own personal space heater, his hands hot as brands when he pushes your sweater up and over your head, when he nearly tears your thermals off.

“I’ve missed this.” You whisper, when he grabs at you, at your body, when he undoes the buckle of his belt, the buttons of his jeans.

It felt like neither of you had a fucking moment to yourself, while these people had been there. Either they were in the house which obviously meant you couldn’t get up to anything too wild with your husband, or they were in the barn, and you worried the sounds might travel in the still quiet of night. Something about that freaked you out, you didn’t want them hearing you, listening to you.

But they’re asleep now, if Brendol was telling the truth, and you’d both gone so long without indulging in one another. Now that the bedroom had been fully finished, a new mattress and box spring included, it only felt right to take comfort in one another. Who else did you have, besides one another?

You didn’t realize how tense you were, until his hands began massaging at you shoulders, as he began sucking on your neck, kissing your collarbones.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” He smudges the words into your skin, and you feel them travel right through you. 

It’s so dark now, the sun fully gone, and you can’t help but feel devious, can’t help but kiss him a little harder, shift your body underneath his a little more fully, spread your legs for him. He is so good to you, and while the cat is an awful awful thing to have happened, you can’t bring yourself to be upset for too long.

They’re gone, the men are gone, and you’re giddy from it as you help Kylo shuck his clothes, help him – 

“Kylo,” You say, you freeze, “What was that sound?” 

His head snaps up from where he’s buried it in your cleavage, unfocused gaze trying desperately to look through the dark, to listen.

“What?” He asks, and there is the low promise of danger in the back of his throat, the rumble of violence that is sure to spill from his finger tips, if what you say is true.

And of course it’s true, why would you lie? Why would you joke about something like this.

Something like a flickering which comes from the barn, the only light in this moonless night, a candle sitting near the window. You hold your breath, and Kylo holds you, and there is nothing, no sound but the hissing of insects, the hooting of owls. You do not laugh this time.

Instead, you hold your breath, the two of you locked in an embrace, only for a moment, only for you to feel how tight of a grip Kylo has on your thigh, fingers leaving angry indents in your flesh as he pulls away.

He does so quickly, carefully, quietly. He was so quiet, your man.

Deadly.

There it is again, a horrible screech, something muffled, like a scream.

It sounds like an animal, something being strangled, something being injured.

And it is coming from the barn.

He yanks his clothes back on and rummages through the bedroom. This room was one of the first to be finished, so things are put away, things are easy to find, and yet he still searches and searches, frantic, ripping through drawers of the dresser and the shelves in the closet.

He pulls out a shotgun, and expertly, carefully loads it with steady hands, methodical.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know, even though you’re already getting out of bed too, already putting your clothes on, your stomach sinking sinking sinking.

What was that noise?

The screaming again, the squealing, hard wretched sounds give way to an awful discordant clamoring. There is a crackling coming from the barn, a cackling. A chattering. What insects made this noise? You don’t know, you don’t like it. You don’t like any of this.

“I’m going to figure out what the fuck they’re doing.” Kylo says, and he does not mean to be harsh with you, but he bares his teeth, his nose pinched up in an angry scowl, he does not like it either.

“Let me go with you.” You whisper, practically plead, but he rounds on you with wide eyes, hard eyes.

“No!” He says, smooths down your hair and kisses you, kisses the top of your head, shakes his own. “No, you’re right, you’ve been right this whole time. There’s something wrong with them, you have to stay here.”

“Please, please be safe.” You grab his hand when he finally pulls away.

You find he is not afraid, no instead he is angry, brimming with rage, that they would dare endanger you, that they would dare disobey him like this. But you, you are scared. You are scared for you both.

Kylo leaves, disappears down the stairs and you watch him through the window as he sneaks, creeps across the farm, down to the barn.

You chew your nails, a nervous habit, wish for a cigarette. You wish for something, to do something, to help – you have to help somehow!

You could call the cops, yes! That’s it, you could call the cops and the cops would come and they would help you, they would save you, they would – but no, they wouldn’t make it in time, would they? The town is a forty-minute drive away, and the Huxes would be able to see the sirens, hear them. It could put Kylo in more danger, it could blow his cover.

What else was there to do though? You could go after him, could not listen, grab a weapon of your own and join your husband out in the farm, face the Huxes together. He was but one man, only one man going up against three. Two were barely teenagers, but you didn’t trust it, didn’t like it. Something about the one, Armitage, was cold and callous, William shy yes but troubled.

They were all deeply troubled.

**(If you want to call the police, jump to chapter 9) (If you want to go after Kylo, jump to chapter 10)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Animal death, animal injury, animal cruelty, gore


	7. Let Them In

Your guilt gets the better of you in the end, and you look at Kylo for his opinion. It was his house too, and it was an area he was more familiar with. Your gut was screaming at you, telling you no, telling you to run, you have to run you have to flee you have to leave – but in the end, you’ve made up your mind.

“Okay.” You say, and you already are filled with regret with the way they smile at your decision. “But only in the barn, and just for the night. In the morning, we’ll call someone to come out and make sure you’re all okay.”

Brendol reaches out a hand for you to shake and you take it, only for a moment. You saw what he had done to Kylo’s hand, how there were still marks from his nails in Kylo’s palm.

“Oh thank you, (Y/N), thank you so much for your kindness.” Brendol said, so polite, too polite.

You go cold.

“We’re going to go to sleep now, I’m afraid there’s nothing in the barn.” Kylo says, an arm around your waist, as you reclaim your hand and tuck yourself against Kylo’s side, mind racing racing racing.

“Not to worry, hay is quite warming, thankfully.” Armitage says, although he glares when he says it.

You wonder how many barns he’s slept in, to know that.

“Alright.” You say, closing the door a little too forcefully, a little too quickly.

But once it’s shut you can hear from the other side of the wood, an all too satisfied,

_“Sleep well.”_

* * *

In the bedroom, you refuse to leave Kylo’s side. You are glued to him practically, on the mattress, under the covers. All those silly fears of monsters under the bed come rushing back from childhood, and you make sure your feet are fully tucked under the blankets.

You have a horrible, eerie feeling, that someone is going to grab you.

Kylo doesn’t seem as perturbed. He’s lying on his back and has you pulled against his chest, his hand carding through your hair, kissing the top of your head like nothing was wrong in the whole world.

“See? We did something nice for someone.” He says, pleased as punch.

Until.

Until you look up at him with afraid eyes, terrified eyes, until you say,

“I didn’t tell him my name.”

The hand in his your hair stops.

“What?” He asks, sitting upright slowly slowly slowly, until he’s against the headboard and you’re still buried up to your chin in covers.

“That man, Brendol. I didn’t tell him my name.” Your voice trembles, and you know this isn’t some random coincidence, this isn’t some happenstance.

This was planned.

And you feel like a moron for falling for it.

“Go check the drawer for me.” Kylo says quickly, as he starts rummaging through the bed-side table for something.

“Which?” You ask, reluctantly getting out of bed, tip-toeing across the floor in your robe to the dresser.

“The one with our underwear.” He says, finally finding what he was looking for, a little box of bullets, stock full.

“You stashed it here?” You ask, when you pull out the revolver that he had hidden under the socks.

He nods, and reaches his hand out for it, for you.

“Give it to me, I don’t want you have to get your hands dirty.” He says softly, and you sigh.

This wasn’t the first time he had done this, and you hate the resignation in your voice. You don’t give him the gun, you don’t want him to be alone in this. You don’t want him to have to be an attack dog anymore.

“Kylo do you think something is going to happen? Should we call the cops?” You ask, keeping the revolver in your own hands.

“I don’t know.” He says, scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know, but if something does fucking happen, I’m not going to leave us defenseless. Cops would take ten, fifteen minutes going top speed, which they won’t do since it’s dark.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done something nice for someone.” You say, a lame attempt at humor, an attempt to try and take the edge off.

It doesn’t work.

You stay awake all night. Each hour that passes feels longer and longer, like time is perpetually stretching on and on. Neither of you can sleep, can even think about falling asleep. You both have your eyes and ears trained. You steal glances out the beautiful bay window, and Kylo keeps his hearing set on downstairs.

For a while, it seems like nothing is going to come. The clock strikes midnight, then one o’clock, then two.

But on the stroke of three o’clock, there’s a knock at the door, the same rap rap rap that had gotten you both out of the shower only just earlier that evening.

“Did you hear that?” You ask, and Kylo’s already got his mask on, his blank, merciless mask on, one that you thought, prayed, you’d never see again.

“It’s them.” Kylo nods, stands up and cracks the joints in his neck, in his spine. He lets you keep the revolver, but he goes to the closet and grabs his shotgun rifle, loads it up. You sigh, but he only gives you a hard look. “Get behind me, (Y/N) I’m not playing this game right now.”

You don’t argue with him, not now, not this time. You get behind him and walk down the hallway, carefully, slowly. You have the revolver and it’s ready to go the second he tells you to shoot, the absolute second he tells you to strike them down. You both avoid the squeaky stairs carefully, avoid the weakspots in the wood as you make your way down down down.

They’ve opened the door, the three of them. Somehow managed to get through the lock.

They’re backlit by the moon, their eerie figures are standing there, just standing. But they’re standing in the foyer, they’re through the door.

Trespassing.

“If you take one more step,” Kylo cocks the shotgun, “Inside my home.”

“You’ll what?” Armitage sneers.

For some reason, he’s standing in front of both his brother and their father. This surprises you, you would have thought Brendol would be front and center in the limelight. Maybe Armitage is a better killer, you think, more ruthless, more efficient. You swallow down bile hard.

“I’ll blow your fucking brains out.” Kylo replies, just as evenly.

Armitage scoffs, rolls his eyes at such a statement.

“You don’t have the – ”

But before Armitage can say whatever it was he was going to say, Kylo pulls the trigger, and does just that.

You’ve never seen it before, someone being killed. You’ve never witnessed a murder, not a real one. Not one that wasn’t pretend, on TV or in a movie somewhere. You didn’t realize how different it would be, how harrowing. You can’t scream, frozen in place, as the back of Armitage’s head is exploded across the doorframe, splattered onto Brendol and William.

“Don’t try me.” Kylo says, holding the shotgun level with the other two, aimed right at their heads too, right at their fucking faces.

“You’re going to pay for what you did to my son.” Brendol seethes, hisses and screams, screams and screams in agony as if it were his own, as if the pain were coming from his own mind.

You watch in horror as the man contorts and twists, as his spine snaps and breaks as he crouches down on all fours, a bear poised to attack. Behind him William is shaking, shivering, a horrible, disgusting noise coming from deep in his chest.

It is an awful clicking sound, like a thousand beetles pouring from hell, wings beating, legs rubbing together. It is horrible, and it is so loud – but then no, you think, it is not like beetles at all, it is like teeth, the skittering, the clacking, it is like mouthfuls and mouthfuls of teeth, freezing frigid cold.

“’Tidge,” He wails, voice high and loud, discordant, like a hundred voices all at once, all at the same time, “’Tidge no.”

And you frown, because even though he was cowering in fear from his brother only an hour ago, now he’s mourning the loss of him. You wonder what the fuck went wrong in this family, to have messed up these kids this badly.

“William, sick.” Brendol sets himself over Armitage’s body, protecting it, trying to salvage what he can.

Or…or maybe…maybe that isn’t what he’s doing, you think with growing horror, as Brendol’s tongue begins to lap up the gore and grime that’s splattered all over his forearms.

There’s not time to question it, because William, the shaking chattering clacking hissing whining crying thing, is bolting towards you, running, running at speeds which don’t make sense, even as he’s crying, as his hands are outstretched as if desperate to be saved.

Kylo fires and fires, until there’s no more in the shotgun, and you don’t think, you empty the revolver into William as he gets closer and closer.

The kid drops to the ground in agony, but to your absolute horror, gets back up, forces himself to get back up.

Brendol lunges then too, having licked himself clean, his hands at the very least. He strangles Kylo, catches him off guard where he was trying to swing punch after punch to William’s face.

“No!” You scream as Kylo and Brendol fight, as they wrestle to the ground, “Get your hands off of him! Get off him!”

William has set his sights on you instead, and before you know it, he’s jumped onto your chest, has crushed you to the ground, has knocked you out.

* * *

It’s dark, in your head.

Dark and cold. Very cold. There’s pain, burning and screaming through your veins. It’s the pain that wakes you up, the pain that makes you come back from the dark.

You don’t know, what’s happened. You don’t know what you missed. You’ve managed to make it back, all the way up to your room, somehow. Somehow alive. But you have a feeling, an awful, sick feeling, that this is it. This is the end for you, for Kylo.

You look down, and you let out a choked sob, for where your lower half should be, there’s nothing. There’s just nothing. They’ve sawed off your legs, you can’t even see your thighs, you can’t see. You scream, scream and scream and sob, the pain blinding. You try to move your legs but they’re not there.

They’re just not there.

Your eyes burn, but you can’t tell if it’s from the smoke that fills the air, or the tears, or both. You reach for Kylo’s hand and you cry all over again when there’s nothing there for you to grasp. They must have cut it off too. But the cuts are clean, like they did it with a cleaver, like they did it with care, like you were animals, livestock for slaughter.

“Kylo, fuck I’m so scared, I don’t – fuck I don’t want to die. I love you I don’t want to die.” You sob, aching and screaming, choking on smoke.

“We won’t, we won’t it’ll be okay, it’ll – fuck!” Kylo rolls over, missing his hand he still pulls himself up and rolls over, protects you from the rickety wooden beams of the house which come crashing down. “(Y/N)!”

“Kylo!” You try to kiss him, you try, but your mouth is still so pinched from sobbing that you can barely pucker your lips.

Everything all at once feels very far away, like you’re floating. You know the house is on fire, you know. You can feel the fire licking up your legs. You want to scream but, at the same time, you can’t open your mouth to make a sound.

Is this what it’s like? You don’t know. You don’t even know what this is, what _what_ is like. Is this death, or is this dying?

Kylo is on the floor with you, on his back. He’s got his face turned towards yours and you wish you could tell him you loved him, wished you could tell him one last time.

With the world crashing down around you, with Brendol and his son feasting on your limbs back in the barn, you wonder what you did to deserve this, why you were being punished this way. Where did it all go wrong?

You don’t know.

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Extreme violence, amputation, mentions of cannibalism, Major Character Death


	8. Tow-truck

No, you decide ultimately, you have such a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, that you can’t allow them inside your home, inside your farm. You wonder if they jumped your fence, or if they broke the lock, because you were sure Kylo had locked the gate behind you when you returned from the store, you were sure of it.

They’re standing there, expectantly, eerily still. Their eyes are wide and cold, dead like sharks. Except for William’s, who’s are too bright, too sad. You can’t look at him for too long, otherwise your stomach will twist, twist and churn with sadness. His hair is lank and greasy, and it looks like he has some kind of stains on his clothing that you aren’t really sure what they are.

“I’m really very sorry, but I don’t feel right having you sleep in our barn as if you’re animals.” You say, trying to pass it off like you’re being caring, and not that you’re so anxious that you could throw up. “I’m going to call the operator and have them send over a tow truck, I’m sure someone must be awake and working somewhere.”

“What, call right now?” Armitage asks, and his voice is so clipped and sharp that you almost feel the razors of his teeth against your ears.

Kylo hears it too, and he takes a protective step towards the boy. Armitage is dressed a little more put-together than his twin, his hair kept cropped close and short, his clothes buttoned up all the way, everything, the collar, the cuffs. He looks meticulous, where his brother looks unkempt. In fact, both he and Brendol look far more taken care of than William, and you cannot help but feel like something awful is going to happen to this boy, that something awful already has.

“Why is that a problem?” Kylo doesn’t notice, or maybe he doesn’t care. Either way, you have to grab his shoulder to prevent him from stalking further anymore.

You didn’t know if he would be able to get off the hook a second time.

“No, there’s – there’s no problem, it’s just that – ” William stammers out, eyes too wide and clear, hands fidgeting in the hem of his shirt.

“Just what?” Kylo challenges, but you squeeze his shoulder, an attempt to get him to stop, to just back down for two minutes.

“I’ll be right back, I’m just going to call the tow.” You announce loudly, before leaving Kylo’s side.

The phone is on the wall of the main hallway, an old-fashioned corded thing that if the circumstances were better, you might walk all around the living room with. But the circumstances being what they were, you waste no time punching in 9-1-1, holding your breath for the phone to ring.

“Sweetwater County P.D., what’s your emergency?” A woman picks up, and you let out a sigh of relief, lungs burning from having holding it in for so so so long.

“A strange man and his sons have shown up at our house, asking to sleep on our property. They claim their car is broken down, and I believe them, but I don’t want them here. Is there anyway someone could come down here? I’m frightened.” You rush, your eyes starting to well with panic.

“Ma’am what is your exact location?” The woman on the other line asks, and you’re quick to answer.

“The farmhouse at Skywalker Ranch, off i-Four.” You tell her, and you can hear her calling out officers to send. You and the police have a nasty track record, what with the whole thing with Kylo, but you’re grateful for literally anyone showing up, at this point.

“Does this family have ginger hair by any chance?” The operator asks, and your blood runs cold.

“Yes.” You whisper, clutching the phone in your now trembling hands. “Yes, all three of them.”

“You have to listen to me. Stay where you are, we have dispatched units on the way. These men are armed and dangerous – do not allow them into your home. I repeat they are armed and dangerous.” The woman says and you want to cry, want to scream, want to warn Kylo – but you know that’s stupid, so you just grit your teeth and suppress every urge in your body to punch something.

You don’t know if they’re listening, if they’re watching, from the front door. Your back is to them, so you don’t know. You don’t want to give anything away.

“Fuck, fuck! What do I do? What do we do?” You whisper frantically into the phone.

“Stay on the line with me ma’am, is there anyone else in the home?” She asks, and you nod, even though she can’t see.

“Yes, my husband, oh my god he’s out there talking with them right now!” You start to hyperventilate, just from the sheer absurdity, the sheer terror.

_Armed and dangerous._

_Armed and dangerous._

They looked like the sick kind of dangerous, the twisted kind.

“Please remain calm, he’ll be alright as long as he can stall, the police are on their way.” The woman assures you, but you spare a glance to the door, and see them growing more and more heated.

“How long? How long do we have to keep them occupied?” You demand, hands fully shaking now, terrified, holding your breath again.

“Five minutes tops, we know exactly where you are. You did the right thing to call us.” The woman says and you chew your lip, chew it, worry it enough that you can taste copper in your mouth.

“I can’t – I can’t stay on the line, it’s going to get suspicious, they’ll know something is wrong.” You explain.

“Ma’am it’s not wise for you to hang up until the police arrive.” The woman says quickly, and you frown, weren’t they supposed to remain calm themselves? Why does she sound like she’s got an edge to her voice?

“I know, I know but my husband is – if he’s there alone he’ll kill them, oh my god he’ll kill them if they try anything.” You realize, knowing exactly where the weapons he kept in the house are, knowing exactly where the axe, the rifle, the revolver were.

And you knew he knew exactly how to use them.

“Are you calling on a cellphone?” The operator asks.

“No, on a landline. I have one but the signal is shit out here, we don’t have a tower anywhere.” You explain, and you can hear her shuffling some things around, clicking on her keyboard.

“Call the station on your cell phone right now, and keep it in your pocket, then hang up this phone and get your husband away from those people you do not want to fuck with them.” She says, voice hard.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You don’t bother to ask any more questions, you fish out your cell phone from the pocket of your robe and with shaking fingers, tap in 9-1-1. When the ringing stops and someone has picked up, you ask, “Are you there?”

“I’m here, now go, keep the phone on. The police will be there any minute.” The woman says, and you do as you’re told.

When you re-join Kylo and Hux at the front door, it seems to be in the nick of time. Kylo’s hands are balled into fists, and his stance is planted, as if he’s ready to attack. Someone a long time ago had once called him a guard dog, an attack dog. They hadn’t been wrong.

Something screams in the distance, some animal, some poor creature with a high pitched gnashing and whine, a mangled, deranged scream.

“What is that?” You ask, but Kylo doesn’t reply, he doesn’t dare look away from Hux. “Where’s Brendol and William?”

The screaming stops.

“Is someone coming?” Brendol asks, emerging from the depths of night, stepping into the light on the porch, seemingly as if summoned. He looks ruffled, and you want to be sick.

“Great news, the operator was able to direct me to a tow company, they’re on their way with some spares.” You lie. It’s not a good lie, not a good lie at all, but how can it be when the gnashing and thrashing starts up again? Like some tortured thing just beyond in the shadows where you can’t see.

“We don’t know how we could ever repay you for your kindness.” Brendol says, although he’s tense, too tense. He doesn’t mean it.

“Oh please don’t worry, it’s no trouble at all, anything to help.” You say. You don’t mean it either.

“May we come inside your lovely home? At least until the tow arrives.” Brendol asks, teeth sharp when he smiles, gums too red, teeth pink. Why were they pink?

“No, I’m sorry, I’m afraid our house is under extreme renovations right now. It wouldn’t be safe, especially not for your boys. I wouldn’t want them getting hurt.” You say, because Kylo is apparently incapable of speech, too angry, doing everything in his power to restrain himself.

“You know it’s really very rude of you, to deny us like this.” Brendol explodes, face red, spit flying from when his temper snaps. “It’s just the barn!”

That is enough for Kylo, that is the last straw. He lunges and tackles the man to the ground, wrestles with him until he has Brendol flat on his back, and begins to pummel the shit out of his face with those hardened calloused knuckles of his.

“Do not!” He begins to scream, to spit at Brendol, “Shout at my fucking wife! Do you understand me?”

“Kylo, it’s alright.” You panic, you shout, you yell, you plead, “Kylo, _please_.”

_Armed and dangerous._

Just then, the sirens and lights come into full effect.

A helicopter hovers over the farm, and you rip Kylo off of this man who bleeds old blood, tarnished blood, blood from his nose and face and you don’t know where else, that soaks and seeps into the wood of the porch.

“Sweetwater Police! Hands where I can see them!” There are all of a sudden too many lights in your face, too many.

“You called the fucking cops?!” Armitage shouts at you, incredulously.

“Hands where I can see them!” The cops say again, and there’s – fuck there’s ten of them, ten officers to wrangle a man and two teenagers.

But Brendol has no desire to comply, and instead of making things easy, he takes advantage of you being so far away from Kylo, and he races towards you, the bright glint of a silver knife shining, blinding you.

He has you pinned against the door, has a blade pressed to your throat, the sharp teeth of the knife slicing your skin, drawing blood, blood that Brendol leans in to lap up with his tongue, barbed like a cat’s.

“Get off of me!” You jerk your knee up, hard in the balls, again and again while his knife cuts deeper and deeper. The pain is completely eclipsed by your panic, completely consumed by terror.

“Papa get off it’s not worth it!” You hear a sobbing voice, a screaming voice, coming from just over there, just outside the ring of the porch-light. With the helicopter’s huge flood-light, now you can see, can see how poor William’s face is carved up, how his cheek is torn open, a gaping hole where you can see into his mouth even as his lips are closed. “Papa please – !”

“Kylo!” You beg, beg for your husband, and he is aided by the police is getting this man off of you.

They drag him away, wrestle him into handcuffs, and you throw yourself into Kylo’s arms.

“Come here, come here.” Kylo says, soothing, shaking, two seconds away from committing a murder himself. He turns to the cops and spits on the floor, “Get these sick fucks off our property.” He says, regarding the men.

“Oh you don’t know just how sick they are.” One of the cops says, in a way that has your eyes falling to William.

He’s been dragged up off the ground, blood gushing from his face.

“Papa please I don’t want to go to jail.” William sobs, snot and spit dripping from his nose and lips, “(Y/N), please, don’t let them take me, don’t let them – ”

You freeze.

“How do you know my name?” You ask, voice low.

“Huh?” He asks, hiccups, eyes so sad, so blue.

“How do you know my name?!” You want to crawl into Kylo’s skin, into his robe, want to be wrapped up and never let go, because how how how did he know your name?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” William doesn’t answer, doesn’t answer that, and you don’t know if that’s worse, worse than knowing.

“Don’t you say a fucking word, boy.” Brendol snarls from where they’re trying to shove him into a straight jacket, into the backseat of the cop car.

There’s so much, so many lights, sirens, cars, cops.

“We were going to kill you,” William wails, “Eat your heart. I told them not to, I told them I didn’t want to but they made me, they made me.” He cries and cries, and your stomach lurches.

“I’m going to kill you!” Brendol lunges suddenly, nearly toppling over the cops who are reaching for guns, reaching for something, you don’t know.

“Sedate him!” One of them shouts, and you realize it’s not a gun at all, but a needle, one that gets stuck right in the meat of Brendol’s thigh.

In only a few moments, the night goes from chaos to calm, with the beast knocked out.

You are still clinging to Kylo, who is clinging to you. His jaw is set, and his eyes are hard, but he is safe, and you are safe.

They load the boys into the back of a car. Armitage is silent the entire time. William can’t stop crying and shaking.

A paramedic comes over, attends to the wound on your neck, cleans it. Kylo refuses to let you out of his arms, but you are able to turn in his embrace to face the woman who tapes up gauze bandages against your throat.

“What happens now?” You ask her, not wanting to talk to the cops, “What’s going to happen to them?”

You really mean William, you’re not sure if she should be tending to you, when the kid is missing half a cheek, just a few feet away. 

“They’re all going to go away for a long time.” The paramedic says, voice soft. “SWPD’s been trying to catch these psychopaths for months, they’ve pulled this stunt three times so far and have been successful every time.” She says, and you find you don’t feel so sorry for them anymore.

A cop comes over as the cars are driven away, as the sirens grow more and more distant.

“We’re going to keep watch here all night, in case anything else happens, but for now, go inside. Get some sleep if you can.” He says, and you almost want to laugh at that, at the notion of a good night’s sleep, after what just happened, what you just saw. “We’re going to need you to fill out paperwork in the morning.”

You feel better knowing that they’ll be there all night, feel better knowing they’re locked away and being taken even farther.

Kylo wraps his arms tight around you once more, hugs your back against his chest, as you watch the helicopter follow the cop cars.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the scariest thing living here.” Kylo says finally, low in your ear.

“Could you imagine what might have happened? If we invited them to stay?” You ask, and he shakes his head.

As the wheat fields sway back and forth, back and forth in the wind, as the sirens now disappear, as the sounds of night replace the screaming, the squelching, the gnashing, he sighs.

“No.” Kylo says, “I honestly, really can’t.”

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Violence, gore, blood mentions, mentions of cannibalism


	9. Phone Call

You decide the cops need to be called, one way or another.

You tear yourself away from the window, careful not to disturb the curtains too much, in case they are looking, in case they can see. It is so dark but you don’t dare turn on a light, that would be so stupid, that would only alert them.

On the bedside table is your phone, plugged in and charging. You were glad, so glad that the electricity had been working, so glad that you could keep your phone alive. Your hands shook as you dialed 9-1-1, held it to your ear.

You walk around the room, back to the window, just peeking through, just looking.

You see nothing but that flickering light. It mocks you, the way the flame goes in and out, the way the soft glow of the candle.

You see nothing until – until you do see something, until you see a pair of eyes reflected back at you, something sinister, something that sends a chill up your spine.

Human eye’s can’t refract light, you think to yourself, so what…what is it?

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You whisper, because the phone still isn’t ringing, still isn’t even dialing, and you peer at the top of your cellphone, feel your stomach begin to sink when you see the small _x_ where there should be bars, should be service.

Hadn’t they gotten an internet router? Hadn’t they gotten the whole home package?

You panic, but you remember, yes – _yes _you did! So there is a landline in the living room, right where Kylo’s grandpa had always kept one. But that means leaving the safety of your room.

Was your room even safe to begin with?

Taking a deep breath you leave, you tip-toe down the stairs. It’s pitch black, so fucking dark, where was the moon, where was anything? You avoid the stairs that creak, avoid the wobbly banister, you want to draw no attention as you creep down down down to the first floor of the house.

When you reach the hallway, you don’t dare move a muscle. What was the saying, they can’t see you if you don’t move? You don’t know if it applies, but you remain still, hold your breath.

The silence is so loud, deafening in its oppression. You can hear your heartbeat, can feel it in your throat as you trail your hand along the wallpaper, feeling around for the phone.

It’s not so old fashioned that you can’t press 9-1-1 with ease, but it does have a cord, one that stretches long long long down the hall as you wait for the dial tone to sound.

Except.

Except you keep going down the hall, and the phone gives no resistance, and you are waiting for a dial tone that does not come.

You feel for the cord, and you begin to truly panic, for someone, someone has cut the line, has slashed right through it, perhaps with the very same thing that they used to sever the cat’s head.

“No!” You can’t help but whisper, “No, no no, please.” You beg, beg to no one, no one is there.

Everyone is there.

But no one can hear you.

Your hands shake as you try again and again,

9-1-1

9-1-1

9-1-1

To no avail, the phone line has definitely been cut, and you, you are all alone.

There is a noise, coming from outside, from the porch.

You bolt upstairs, wanting to put as much distance between you and the sound, wanting to climb into bed and wake up and have this all be one big nightmare.

As you climb, the noise only grows more and more insistent, and you scramble to the window.

It isn’t Kylo, you’re watching him walk towards the barn, watching him cock the shotgun, watching him go closer and closer to the light which glows, a candle which flickers in the window, which flickers all the way across the farm.

It’s a trap, you realize, eyes wide with terror as the noise sounds again. It sounds like a knocking, no – a pounding, on the front door.

What can you do – what _is _there to do? You are alone in the house, this noise, this banging, coming from the front door, now the back door, both exits blocked.

You could hide, could find a spot somewhere and just hide. You don’t know what they want, you don’t know why they came or who they are or why they knew your name – why did they know your name? You begin to cry as you think, maybe, maybe if you could only find a place to hide.

Or, you chew your lip, or.

Or or or.

You knew there was a revolver and an axe, somewhere in the house. You knew there was, because Kylo had stashed them somewhere easy to reach, somewhere he could grab on the way downstairs to go chop firewood for when the nights became too unbearable. If you could find the axe, find the revolver, maybe, maybe you could defend yourself.

**(If you want to try and hide, jump to chapter 11) (If you want to attack the boys, jump to chapter 12)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> No explicit trigger/squick warnings


	10. After Him

No, you settle on finally. You’ve seen enough movies to know, read enough books to know, that you don’t split up during something like this – whatever _this _is.

Taking a deep breath you leave, you tip-toe down the stairs. It’s pitch black, so fucking dark, where was the moon, where was anything? You avoid the stairs that creak, avoid the wobbly banister, you want to draw no attention as you creep down down down to the first floor of the house.

When you reach the hallway, you don’t dare move a muscle. What was the saying, they can’t see you if you don’t move? You don’t know if it applies, but you remain still, hold your breath.

You can hear your heartbeat, can feel it in your throat as you trail your hand along the wallpaper, follow it through the house, follow it until you are at the front door.

Your heart pounds in your throat as you slowly, slowly open the front door. It makes only the smallest bit of noise as you close it behind you, having oiled the hinges some time ago. It is windy, incredibly windy tonight, and you wrap Kylo’s jacket around you as tight as you can. The tall grasses whip at your ankles as they smack against one another, as they rustle among themselves, making the most eerie sounds in the darkness.

You are guided by the light that comes from the barn, trying to watch your step even though you can’t really see.

As you get closer and closer to the barn, the louder and louder the noise becomes. It is an awful clicking sound, like a thousand beetles pouring from hell, wings beating, legs rubbing together. It is horrible, and it is so loud – but then no, you think, it is not like beetles at all, it is like teeth, the skittering, the clacking, it is like mouthfuls and mouthfuls of teeth, freezing frigid cold.

Are they your teeth? They don’t sound like it, they sound like they are coming from somewhere beyond, somewhere in front of you, and you are disoriented, so disoriented, as you blindly stumble through the farm.

When you finally reach the barn, Kylo has not yet gone in.

He whirls around, and you put your hands up, silently telling him it’s only you, only you. He relaxes, and puts a finger to his mouth. You nod, pretending to zip it shut, throw away the key, in the hopes that he might smile.

He doesn’t smile, but then again, these weren’t smiling matters.

You don’t know what you might find, inside the barn. You don’t know what – or who – is in there, but the noise has stopped.

The silence is so loud, deafening in its oppression.

There is a crack, in between where the front doors meet. You can tell because candlelight spills out from it, pours in a very thin line onto the earth below. You and Kylo look at one another, sharing the same idea. You hold up your fingers, count to three and peer inside.

You must look away quickly, must clamp your hand over your mouth for a second time that day, lest you scream, lest you give yourselves away. Kylo has gone stiff, gone rigid, hands gripped so tight around the shotgun that you almost wonder if he could rip the thing in half with sheer brute force.

The barn is empty.

The candle light flickers yes, but there are no people inside, no one to watch it.

The only thing inside is a shrine, for lack of a better word. Some crude thing drawn in the dirt, some circle, a pentagram maybe. You don’t know, you’re not well versed in this at all, you didn’t think any of this was even real, didn’t think people _did _this.

But they did.

Or at the very least, the Huxes did.

There is more than one candle that has been lit, dozens of them, and by the looks of it they have been lit for a long time, have been burning away and away, if the melted and cooled wax was anything to go by. In the center of the circle, center of the ring, are all manners of animal entrails, parts and bits and pieces.

There are bones criss-crossed three in a line. Atop one is what looks like a stomach, a liver, you don’t know. Wound around it are what look like intestines, wet and glossy, fresh. Where the fuck had they gotten fresh intestines?

On the second one was a skull, small and covered in gristle. It was the skull of an animal, grey matter of brain still oozing from out of the eye sockets. If you weren’t so repulsed, you’d be devastated for the poor calico cat, having had to die for something so gruesome as this.

But the third one, the third set of bones, the third thing which made you truly want to retch, which made you truly have to look away, which made your skin erupt into shivers and goosebumps, were the pictures of you.

So many photographs of you.

Of you eating breakfast at the table.

Of you in town.

Of you in the shower.

Of you asleep.

None of Kylo, only of you.

“Where are they?” You find it in you to whisper, find it in you only to have the strength for that – for what the fuck could this mean?

Were they sacrificing these animals to you?

…Or were they planning on sacrificing you to a greater animal?

How did they know your name?

Kylo nods, shakes, shakes all over from rage, and you can tell he wants to go inside and take those pictures, he wants to destroy them, because you feel violated, you feel slimy all over, and he can tell. Of course he can tell.

It is then that you hear it, the sound of glass breaking, shattering, crashing crashing crashing to the ground behind you as rocks hail down upon your newly polished floors. If this were a normal night, any normal circumstance, you’d be furious, at the broken windows. But these are not normal circumstances, and you are not furious, you are terrified, as the shattering only gives way to chattering.

God that awful sound, teeth clacking in the night. Now it comes from behind you, and you feel like you are going crazy, you wonder if you are – if any of this is even happening.

“It was a trap.” Kylo whispers as the two of you duck, hide hide hide in the inky blackness. “To get me out here. They don’t know you’re with me.” His chest is heaving and you do your best to keep him calm, given the circumstances.

You don’t know how, for you are surely not calm.

But people die when Kylo gets this angry, people die badly.

“This is our chance then, we have to leave.” You insist, grab his hand and give it a tight squeeze.

“The keys are still in the truck.” Kylo says, and the two of you only stare hard into the darkness where you know the truck is parked, where you know the thing is waiting for you.

From your spot near the barn, you watch as they climb through your windows, Armitage and William. You watch as they slink their way inside through the windows they shatter, that noise going with them.

You feel it again, that stare.

Something, something out in the darkness is watching you.

Where is Brendol?

“Run.” Kylo whispers, grabbing your arm and making a dash for it, a mad fucking dash that you both try so hard to stay silent for, despite the deep gulps of breath that you take as the earth flies under your feet.

The truck is there, thank god it’s there, and you both clamor inside it, you constantly looking looking looking, behind your back and over your shoulder, out into the front and in all the mirror, for Brendol, for he is still nowhere to be seen.

Kylo doesn’t fumble with the car keys like some bad b-movie flick, he gets it in the ignition sure and steady, turns it.

And turns it.

And turns it again, but the engine still does not start – there is something wrong, and a cold wash of dread crashes down on top of you when you realize they must have done this, must have cut the fuel lines, must have done _something. _

“What do we do?” You ask, and Kylo thinks, he thinks and thinks, presses his palms into his eyes to try and clear his thoughts.

“We can’t stay here, they’re going to fucking find us.” Kylo growls, simmers, shakes, boiling with rage. “We have to go, have to run. I know a shortcut through the fields.” He finally says, and you bite your lip so hard you think it’s bleeding, because that being the only option really isn’t any good, isn’t safe.

You don’t have a choice.

**(To continue into the fields, jump to chapter 13) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Gore, animal death, animal injury, satanic rituals


	11. Hide

Your hands shake too much to hold a weapon you decide, too much. You’d be overpowered easily, your brain supplies, and then what – then they would have an axe. You don’t know what it is that they do have, but you panic, you flee, blindly stumbling in the dark for a safe space to curl away, a place to try and will phone signal to appear, a place to try and form some kind of plan.

Suddenly, the house seems so small. As if the rooms are beginning to shrink, as if the walls are closing in, leaning in. You can’t breathe, don’t dare to breathe, and your throat is tight, heart pounding in your chest as you run, run for any sort of shelter you might find.

You find none, and you could cry, could very nearly break down right then and there, as the pounding pounding pounding only grows louder and louder – hadn’t there been so many rooms? Where were all the rooms? Where were the doors? There is nothing but the long hallway, and it feels as though it never ends, and you feel as though the air is thin, so thin, you can’t breathe can’t – no, wait, there is a door, and you wrench it open as glass breaks, shatters, crashes crashes crashes to the ground downstairs as rocks hail down upon your newly polished floors.

If this were a normal night, any normal circumstance, you’d be furious, at the broken windows. But these are not normal circumstances, and you are not furious, you are terrified, as the shattering only gives way to chattering.

It is an awful clicking sound, like a thousand beetles pouring from hell, wings beating, legs rubbing together. It is horrible, and it is so loud – but then no, you think, it is not like beetles at all, it is like teeth, the skittering, the clacking, it is like mouthfuls and mouthfuls of teeth, freezing frigid cold.

Are they your teeth? They don’t sound like it, they sound like they are coming from downstairs, and you are disoriented, so disoriented, as you barricade yourself behind the door. You don’t wait for them to climb the stairs, don’t wait for them to find you. You hide, don’t dare to turn on the light. You have to clamp your hand over your mouth as you gasp for breath, as you scramble to search through the room for something, anything that could be used as a weapon.

It’s the bathroom, and you nearly scream at your reflection in the mirror, relieved to find only yourself in the room. You don’t recognize yourself, don’t recognize the terror in your eyes – oh how they are so wide, so eerie in the night.

In the corner of the room through the reflection you see a broom, and you do the first thing you can think of, prop it up under the door handle. You don’t know if it’ll hold, but it’s worth a shot, worth a fucking shot while you try and figure this out.

There is a window in the bathroom, and you think maybe, maybe you could climb through it. There would be nothing for you to stand on once you do, but the way that the house is built, it wouldn’t be a very far fall to the porch, wouldn’t even be a very far fall to the ground, if you were to fit through.

It’s worth a shot, you decide, as the chattering and clacking and clicking and skittering grow closer and closer, until you can hear voices, can hear whispers, in some twisted tongue, in some awful terrible harsh voice, raspy and broken.

“We shouldn’t – it’s – we shouldn’t ‘Tidge, this is wrong.” You recognize that voice, it’s one of the twins, it’s William.

You push the window open, and try to figure out how to get yourself through it. You decide to go feet first, since it wouldn’t make sense for you to fall on your face, and you climb up onto the sink while the brothers argue outside the room, up the stairs, down the hall.

Closer, closer, closer.

William is crying, sniveling, shivering, chattering. There is a hard smack, and blood pounds in your ears.

“Shut up!” Armitage hisses, another smack, “Do you want to upset him? Do you?”

“No! No please, there has to be another way, she’s so pretty, she’s so nice we can’t – ” William wails, and this makes your blood run cold.

Can’t what?

Can’t _what??_

“Shut up! Or she’ll hear you.” Armitage smacks him again, and this smack has your foot slipping, has your toothbrush clattering to the ground, the electric button accidentally being hit on its way.

It vibrates on the floor, and the sound is enough to draw their attention.

“Found her.” Armitage says, followed by the jiggling of the door-knob.

“Fuck.” You wince, scramble, hurriedly try and try and try to fit yourself through this window.

They pound on the door, bang bang bang, and your hands grow too sweaty when you aren’t fitting, when your hips are just too wide, too wide to squeeze through. You try, force yourself, but they have now begun to kick the door down.

The wood begins to splinter, and you realize no – they aren’t kicking it, they’ve found the axe, they’re chopping the door down. You want to scream, want to cry, but you can’t for some fucking reason you can’t. Where’s Kylo? Where’s Brendol?

The door collapses inward, crashes to the ground, and the twins are on the other side of it, and they are immediately lunging for you, grabbing at your hair, your face, your arms. Now you do scream, you scream and thrash as the twins drag you from the window, drag you onto the sink and push you to the bathroom floor, taking everything on the counter down with you.

You fight back, crying, pleading, begging.

“No!” You try, but hands are holding you down as your tip is ripped open, and you thrash, you kick, spit, do everything you can to get them off of you. “No! William, William you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to I promise you – William?”

The boy’s face is so close to yours as Armitage tries to wrangle you out of your clothes, as he cuts it away, as your skin is exposed to the freezing cold air that comes through the open window.

William is…wet.

Why is he wet?

“What is that all over you?” You ask, repulsed, horrified, when his mouth and chin are glistening, when his hands slip crimson over your skin. You want to retch, you want to punch them, and you try, you try but Armitage holds you down.

“Brain.” William’s chin wobbles, big blue eyes spilling, dripping tears and your eyes widen – the cat, the poor cat. He knows you know and he sobs, sobs as he lifts a big knife, a big sharp cleaver in his shaking hands. “I’m sorry.”

He says, and you scream them, scream because you know what’s coming, you know they’re going to do, until William breaks down, until he tosses the cleaver down onto the bathroom tile, covers his face in his hands and he shakes and sobs, hunched over in the darkness, chattering chattering chattering.

“I don’t want to, I don’t want to.” He rocks back and forth and Armitage lets out a big angry groan, punches his brother in the side so hard he topples over.

“Oh for fuck’s sake fine, then I will.” He hisses, hands wet, slick with blood as he grabs for the knife.

You take the opportunity to grab something, anything, and smash it over his head. It’s a hand mirror, one with a long handle, heavy, a vintage thing you found in an antique store. You don’t give a shit to seven years of bad luck, not now, not when you’re having possibly the worst fucking luck there ever was.

It’s enough, enough to distract him, to get him off of you as he scrabbles his hands over his face, glass cutting deep into his cheek, his nose, his eyes. You hope you’ve blinded him, and you very well may have, with all the blood, all the screaming that pours out of him.

You grab the cleaver from the ground, and run.

Down the hall, down the stairs, you run. Your feet carry you for miles and miles it feels like, you don’t bother to mind the steps, don’t bother to do anything, all you know is that if you can reach the car, if you can get to the truck, you can get Kylo, and you can leave.

God all you want to do is get Kylo and leave.

The ricketing sound is back, it sounds like bones shivering against one another, and you look up in terror. William is at the stop of the stairs, and you see the same shine in his eyes as from the creature outside, and you scream, scream as his body bends and twists, racing down the stairs to meet you.

You bolt, run straight into something, it’s so dark, you can’t see, don’t know where the furniture is to avoid it – but the thing you have run into is solid and strong and warm, so warm, and you panic, because you have to leave you have to leave.

“Kylo!” You cry, because thank god it’s Kylo, “Kylo they – ”

“Get down.” He orders, and you do, you fall to the ground, cling to his knees as he fires the shotgun, fires directly into William’s chest, shoving him backwards with the force of it, blowing his rigcage practically out of his body.

The poor boy screams, wails, and you throw up, right on the floor, right on Kylo’s boots, when he shoots again, when the screaming stops.

It is far too quiet, when the screaming stops.

“Are you okay?” Kylo asks you, hauls you up to your feet, crushes you against him.

“I – ” You try, try to warn him that Armitage is still up there, that the brother is still up there, but he cuts you off with a brief kiss.

“Christ, oh my god, (Y/N), oh my god I’m so sorry.” He says over and over again, and his eyes are wide with fear, filled with terror, and you desperately want to know what he saw, what the fuck happened in that barn.

But there is no time, not right now, you can see Armitage running, sprinting, face bloodied and bellowing with rage, and there is the chattering again, the beetle’s wings, the insects, and you close your eyes shut, clamp them tight as you scream, “Look out!”

“When I say leave,” Kylo cocks the shotgun once more, waits for him to get too close, waits for him to get way too close before blowing his stomach out, the shot ringing out deep and brutal. “I mean _leave._”

“Where is he? Where the fuck is he?” You shout, shout straight in his face, as all the blood drains from his head and gushes out of his open wound, intestines spilling out onto the floor, the slippery wet sound of it so nauseating that you think you’re going to be sick again, but you have to know, have to put an end to this.

“The barn, he’s in the barn.” Armitage is too out of it to do anything but scream, and you grant him the mercy of slitting his throat with the cleaver, the very same cleaver he was going to use against you.

With the brothers dead, you take stock of Kylo, how he is covered in blood. But there is too much blood for it to just be from the blowback of the shotgun, he is drenched in it. His chest heaves, and you smear it off his face, wipe it off as best you can.

“Kylo?” You ask, whisper, as his breath comes in short hard pants, he is angry, so angry, his eyes are wide.

He looks exactly as he did three years ago, exactly the same as when you came home to find a crimson trail leading to where his father’s body lay on the carpet, exactly the same as when you had pried the kitchen knife from his clenched fists.

“I took care of him, the dad.” Kylo says, but his voice is raspy, raw, and you can’t help but think he has a habit of doing that, doesn’t he? “We need to burn it, the barn.”

He speaks lowly, and your mind races, already on board, already trying to think.

“It’s filled with hay, it should go up with no problem.” You whisper, although you don’t know why you whisper, for now you really are the only ones left in the house, the only ones left for fifteen-hundred acres.

“Help me get them in there?” Kylo asks, and you nod right away, trying your best not to actually look at them, at the boys, when you approach them.

“Anything.” You whisper, “Anything.”

You go to the top of the stairs where the pieces of William have splattered, have scattered. You gather him up in your arms, and up close your heart aches for this kid. He has burns all across his face, fresh and bubbling, his mouth red and bleeding from where he had been beaten. He’s bleeding all over, body limp, and you wonder just how much blood is in a person, as you try not to slip on it, try not to trip on his arm which has fallen off somewhere down the stairs.

You follow Kylo, who is not even doing Armitage’s body the decency of picking it up, instead dragging it by the ankle, smearing guts and blood onto the floor as he goes, out of the house.

It is instant, the feeling of the bitter cold air on your face, your chest exposed from where they clawed your clothing off. It was so hot in the house, had been so fucking hot, that this change hurts almost, stings your face.

The barn is not far, not far at all, but Kylo does not let you inside when you get to the front doors. Instead he gives you the shotgun in exchange for William’s body, and with too much force, throws them both into a pile in the middle of the barn.

“Do you have a match?” You ask, and he pats his jacket, looking for something, a lighter, anything.

He finds one, a match box that’s nearly empty, the same kind of matches you’ve been buying for him for years, since high school. He smiles down at them just a little, and with blood underneath his fingertips, he strikes one after the other, after the other.

He chucks them all into the barn, one by one, slides an arm around your waist and holds you close to his side as you watch, as you watch the barn burn.

“Do you think anyone will come?” You ask, as the thing goes up in flames, as the dry cold hay burns to a crisp, as the wooden paneling of the walls catches alight.

“Yeah, the fire department, the police.” He says, watches as the very last piece of hay, the very last straw blazes, and the entire barn goes up in a great, raging fire, a great burning thing, burning bright and orange, more orange than the sunsets, than the sun itself.

“What do we tell them?” You whisper, for this isn’t your first rodeo, not your first go around – but it is your first with something like this.

“We tell them the truth.” Kylo says, and you lose yourself in the beauty of the fire.

“What will we do?” You whisper again, as a huge plume of flame spits out into the night, smoke billowing and billowing into the cold.

“Whatever we have to.” Kylo replies, and you smile, smile and thank whatever powers there may be, that you made it out of this thing, alive.

As the barn blazes and you are both caked in blood from head to toe, both your own and that of the Huxes, you can’t imagine what might have happened if things had gone differently.

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Extreme violence, gore, gun violence, mentions of cannibalism, death


	12. Attack

You have to find them, you decide, the weapons. You have to find something that you can use to protect yourself, now that Kylo has been lured away, far away from you.

You begin your search for the gun, you know it has to be in the bedroom somewhere. Where could he have put it, where? You were sure he told you it was in the drawers somewhere, underneath the clothes. You practically throw underwear and socks all over the place, until you see it, you see the metal glint off the moonlight.

You yank it out and check to see if there’s any bullets.

“Thank fuck.” You whisper, kiss the side of the barrel, when you find it fully loaded.

Armed, you feel much better. You know they’re crazy, they have to be crazy, of course they’re crazy, but at the very least now you can kill them with ease if you have to.

Who are you kidding, you think as you find yourself creeping back down the hallway, of course you have to.

You think about Kylo, think about what he would do.

The thought of him being so angry, so fucking angry that they lured him away from you, that they tricked you both into separating, is going to spur him on to fucking destroy these boys, you know that. The smashing doesn’t stop, the crashing, the shattering of broken glass, windows being broken by big rocks which sail through and clamor on the floors.

If this were a normal night, any normal circumstance, you’d be furious, at the broken windows. But these are not normal circumstances, and you are not furious, you are terrified. Especially as the shattering only gives way to…chattering.

It is an awful clicking sound, like a thousand beetles pouring from hell, wings beating, legs rubbing together. It is horrible, and it is so loud – but then no, you think, it is not like beetles at all, it is like teeth, the skittering, the clacking, it is like mouthfuls and mouthfuls of teeth, freezing frigid cold.

Are they your teeth? Is it merely the echo of your own teeth clacking together in your head? But no, it doesn’t sound like it, it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs, and you are disoriented, so disoriented, as you creep closer and closer to the stairs.

You don’t wait for them to climb the stairs, don’t wait for them to find you.

You’re going to attack these people, whoever they are – whatever they are, before they have a chance to harm you.

Except they aren’t the slow careful creatures you envisioned they would be, they’re _fast, _and you swallow a scream when they come bolting up the stairs, _bolting, _running faster than you thought really possible, crouched over like animals, using their hands to pull them up and up and up the stairs.

And, when they get close enough to you, you have the revolver trained on them, waiting to pull the trigger, waiting, waiting, not yet, not when you know – ah! Just there, Armitage got caught, broke the wooden steps by leaning too much of his weight on it. The wood splinters and cracks and he falls through, only getting halfway before the jagged wooden edges catch on his shirt, trapping him upside down.

Armitage shouts and thrashes, trying to claw himself out of this hole, and William is torn between going after you, you who is standing at the top of the stairs, holding a gun evenly in his direction, or his brother, who is floundering, flailing. The chattering and clacking and clicking and skittering grow closer and closer, until you can hear voices, can hear whispers, in some twisted tongue, in some awful terrible harsh voice, raspy and broken.

“We shouldn’t – it’s – we shouldn’t ‘Tidge, this is wrong.” William wails as he braces himself against the wall, smudging filth and blood against it.

William is crying, sniveling, shivering, chattering. Armitage from his upside down stuck position, is somehow able to kick his brother hard, right in the gut, sending him toppling over down the stairs a few steps. You shoot the gun, shoot him right in the thigh for kicking his brother, for doing all of this, blood pounding in your ears.

_Kylo, come on Kylo_, you think, you send to him, hoping beyond hope that he can hear you somehow.

“Help me up!” Armitage screams, another kick when William tries to do as his brother says, “Do you want to upset him? Do you?”

The way that Armitage says that, upset _him, _you don’t know if he means their father, or someone else entirely.

Something.

“No! No please, there has to be another way, she’s so pretty, she’s so nice we can’t – ” William wails as he pulls Armitage up up up, sets him right, the two looking at one another before looking at you.

This makes your blood run cold.

Can’t what?

Can’t _what??_

You shoot again, shoot Armitage right in the shoulder. You were aiming for his heart but you missed, and you curse to yourself, curse your shaking fucking hands.

You don’t get the chance to find out, because suddenly, the front door is kicked open and there is Kylo.

He is covered in sweat and mud and blood that you are praying is not his own, but he is alive in front of you and that’s all that matters.

“Kylo!” You cry, because thank god it’s Kylo, “Kylo they – ”

“Get down.” He shouts, holds the shotgun up, aiming. You do as he says, fall right to the ground, right at the top of the steps as he fires the weapon, fires directly into William’s chest, shoving him backwards with the force of it, blowing his rigcage practically out of his body.

The poor boy screams, wails, and you throw up, can’t contain it, when he shoots again, sending another round directly into Armitage’s back. You watch as his bones come splintering out of him, watch as he crumples to the floor, collapses.

You jump over their cracked and broken bodies, run down the stairs, careful not to slip on the blood and the gore.

“Are you okay?” Kylo asks you, hauls you up to your feet, crushes you against him.

“I – ” You try, try to explain, except you can’t you don’t have any answers, none at all. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care one fucking bit, and he cuts you off with a brief kiss.

“Christ, oh my god, (Y/N), oh my god I’m so sorry.” He says over and over again, and his eyes are wide with fear, filled with terror, and you desperately want to know what he saw, what the fuck happened in that barn.

But there is no time, not right now, now you have to get out, you have to leave.

“No.” He says, and you frown, wondering if you said it out loud and didn’t realize. Were you going insane? What the fuck was happening? “I’m not giving up on this place, I’m not giving up on them.” He says, wetness in his eyes.

You know he means Anakin and Padme, you know.

“We can’t call anyone Kylo they cut the lines, they planned this, who knows for how long? They knew my _name _Kylo, we can’t stay here, it isn’t safe here.” You say, growing mildly hysterical, even though you know, you know they’re all dead.

“No!” Kylo says, holds you tightly against him, takes deep breaths and tries to calm himself, tries to calm down despite being in the least calm situation possible. “No. This is my house, my home. I will make it safe. I will make sure it is safe here for us.” He says, over and over again, a mantra.

It reminds you of that time a long time ago, when he killed his dad, how he had clung to you then too.

“Where’s Brendol?” You ask, brushing his blood-sticky hair from his face, “Kylo honey, where is he?”

“In the barn.” He sighs, angry and defeated all at once, “We have to burn it, it’s the only way.”

“Then let’s do it, let’s burn it to the fucking ground.” You say, pulling back to look at him, to search his eyes.

“Can you get one of them? I can take the other.” Kylo asks, voice above a whisper, and you wonder what it must be like, to kill so many people. Kylo’s now done four, and you’re not sure…you don’t know what is going to happen from this, even though it’s self defense, you don’t know.

You nod, and he moves towards the limp form of one of the twins, and something in you makes you reach out and grasp his wrist when you notice who he’s going for.

“No – no, let me carry William.” You say. Kylo doesn’t care.

You gather him up in your arms, and up close your heart aches for this kid. He has burns all across his face, fresh and bubbling from whatever the fuck Brendol or Armitage did to him, his mouth is red and bleeding from where he had been beaten. He’s bleeding all over, body limp, and you wonder just how much blood is in a person, as you try not to slip on it, try not to slip on any of it. 

You have William carried in a monster carry, and you take him outside, following closely behind Kylo who is walking with such a resolute focus that it hurts you. He’s going to be fighting these demons forever, you know. It was hard enough when it was just his father he had murdered, but now, now he has the blood of kids on his hands. They’re psycopaths, yes, but still. They’re kids. You follow Kylo, who is not even doing Armitage’s body the decency of picking it up, instead dragging it by the ankle, smearing guts and blood onto the floor as he goes, out of the house.

“(Y/N)?” A cracked voice coughs in your arms, and your step falters as you realize that this boy isn’t dead, not all the way.

“Hey Bill.” You say quietly, looking straight ahead. You can’t bare to look at him, not when you’re about to set him ablaze, let him burn to death.

“I’m sorry.” William cries, his bottom lip trembling, “I didn’t want to, I swear, I swear I didn’t want to.”

“I know, it’s okay. I know.” You say, and some demented part of you wonders why the fuck you don’t scream, why you don’t alert Kylo. But Kylo is already so far ahead, dragging Armitage against the cold hard ground, and it’ll all be over soon anyway.

“Are you going to kill us?” William asks and you can’t help but cry a little, cry for this poor fucked up tortured boy.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. We have to. I’m so sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, you don’t know, but you do.

“No – don’t be. Don’t be. We deserve it, all of us. I deserve it.” William sniffles.

“What were you going to do, to me, to Kylo?” You ask, because you had to know, you had to.

“We were going to eat you, like we did the others.” He tells you, and suddenly, suddenly you don’t feel sorry for him at all.

It is instant, the feeling of the bitter cold air on your face. It had been so hot in the house, had been so fucking hot, that this change hurts almost, stings your face.

When you finally get to the barn, Kylo doesn’t let you inside. He dumps Armitage’s body on the ground, and you drop William on top of him, the two brothers’ bodies mangled and twisted together. He doesn’t let you inside, but he does ask you to hold the shotgun, and you take it, hug it against your chest.

Kylo kicks the brothers into the barn, and you don’t bother to look. You know Brendol is there too, dead, or dying. You trust Kylo enough not to look.

“Do you have a match?” You ask, and he pats his jacket, looking for something, a lighter, anything.

He finds one, a match box that’s nearly empty, the same kind of matches you’ve been buying for him for years, since high school. He smiles down at them just a little, and with blood underneath his fingertips, he strikes one after the other, after the other.

He chucks them all into the barn, one by one, before closing the barn doors and walking back over to you.

He tucks you close against his side, him keeping you warm, wanting to keep you shielded from everything, despite it all.

Despite it all, you feel safe.

“Do you think anyone will come?” You ask, as the whole barn goes up in flames, as the dry cold hay burns to a crisp, as the wooden paneling of the walls catches alight.

“Yeah, the fire department, the police.” He replies, watches as the very last piece of hay, the very last straw blazes, and the entire barn goes up in a great, raging fire, a great burning thing, burning bright and orange, more orange than the sunsets, than the sun itself.

It is so bright and hot from the fire, that you both need to take a step back, careful not to singe off your eyebrows.

“What do we tell them?” You whisper, for this isn’t your first rodeo, not your first go around – but it is your first with something like this.

“We tell them the truth.” Kylo says, and you lose yourself in the beauty of the fire.

“What will we do?” You whisper again, as a huge plume of flame spits out into the night, smoke billowing and billowing into the cold.

“Whatever we have to.” Kylo replies, and you smile, smile and thank whatever powers there may be, that you made it out of this thing, alive.

As the barn blazes and you are both caked in blood from head to toe, both your own and that of the Huxes, you can’t imagine what might have happened if things had gone differently.

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Extreme violence, mentions of cannibalism, death


	13. Fields

No, you decide, the house is too dangerous. It doesn’t make sense to go into the very place where murderers await you.

“We have to make a run for it, quickly!” You say, and Kylo nods.

“Whatever you do, do not let go of my hand.” Kylo says, before kissing you square on the lips, hard, passionately.

You kiss him back, needing the comfort, the reassurance. You had never been the best runner, but you had also never been running away from anything that really mattered.

Not like this.

The two of you bolt, and you latch onto his hand as you both run into the field.

This you find, is a grave mistake.

Behind you comes that awful sound again, the sound like rats scampering on hardwood floors, like a thousand bees swarming, like bones rattling, teeth chattering. You do not dare look back, do not dare spare a glance behind you, instead you run run run through the tall grasses.

Kylo’s grip on your hand is firm, is tight, but your hand is sweaty and slippery, you struggle to keep up. He very nearly rips your arm out of its socket, but you don’t care, you don’t fucking care because you’d rather be alive with a dislocated shoulder, than dead.

The noise echoes now, surrounds you, and you want to scream – how is it doing this? How are they fucking doing this?

Until you can’t think of anything at all, because Kylo has slammed into something, and you have slammed into him. You are stunned, the force of the impact enough to send you all to the floor, and when you feel wet sticky hands on your ankles, you know it’s not Kylo.

“No, no no no,” You can’t help but whimper as you kick and thrash, trying to get out of his grasp.

Teeth sink into your flesh and you scream, you kick upwards hard, hear the crunch of bone or cartilage, you can’t tell which.

Your blood pounds in your ears, and you hear a struggle, hear a fight, hear the pounding of fists on flesh as you search, search for Kylo’s hand.

You find someone’s hand, but it is not Kylo’s, it is William’s, and you scream again, but he only covers your mouth, shushes you gently.

“We shouldn’t – it’s – we shouldn’t ‘Tidge, this is wrong.” William cries, snivels and shivers, chattering chattering chattering in your ear. He smells foul, breath smells awful, like he had been eating something raw, his face and hands sticky, “There has to be another way, she’s so pretty, she’s so nice we can’t – ” William wails, and this makes your blood run cold.

Can’t what?

Can’t _what??_

“What do you want from us!” You scream, as you wrestle to get him off of you, wrestle to free yourself.

Suddenly there is a gunshot, and you scream again, as William is blown to bits off of you, as you aren’t so sure that you aren’t shot, and you don’t know how Kylo did that, because he is still grunting on the floor, still fighting.

Who is it that he’s fighting?

“Useless stupid boy.” You hear Brendol from just off to the left, and your eyes strain against the darkness.

Kylo must be fighting Armitage then, until he isn’t, Brendol shooting his second son. Thankfully, thankfully he misses Kylo, thankfully the bullet only goes through Armitage. It must have killed him quickly, because there is no crying or screaming from the spot on the floor where he lays.

Kylo is weak when he stands, but he does stand, and a great sigh of relief floods through you. He is badly wounded, Armitage must have had a knife, a cleaver, something sharp, because Kylo is cut to high heavens, is bleeding all over. You hope there are no stab wounds, hope and hope, because you could not carry him if there are, he is too heavy, too big.

“Please leave us alone,” You try, try reasoning, try begging as you help Kylo to his feet, as you let him lean against you. You don’t know where the shotgun is, it’s somewhere on the ground, but you can’t fucking see it’s so dark. “What have we done, what did we do to deserve this?”

Hot tears are finally starting to overwhelm you, and you shake, you shake and cry as Brendol steps closer, as he reaches out a sticky foul hand to caress your cheek.

“Oh sweetheart, you didn’t do nothin’, nothin’ except just being you.” Brendol replies cheerily, and when he smiles, his eyes shine, reflect the low light from the barn, or the moon, or whatever it is.

Kylo smacks Brendol’s hand away from you, lunges at him, even though he is still weak.

“Run!” Kylo shouts, but panic strikes you, strikes you deep.

“No! I won’t leave you.” You say, insistent, as you too drop to the floor in search for the shotgun, for the cleaver, for anything.

You can hear the scuffle but is sounds like it’s coming from all around you, the wind whipping up and making the tall grasses crash, the harsh whistle of the air as it sweeps across the farm. You begin to cry, because your hands keep coming up with nothing as you search and search and search, all to no avail.

“(Y/N) You have to run!” Kylo screams, and you sob, your eyes are clouded because you cannot help him, you can’t help him and that’s all you desperately want – to be with him. “I’ll catch up with you but you have to go now.” Kylo yells, and he’s yelling out in pain, yelling as he has found the cleaver, as he buries the knife deep.

You run.

You hate yourself for it, but you run.

The earth underneath your feet seems to shake and rumble, and you wonder if there is an earthquake, if earthquakes happened here. You can almost feel the earth shift under your feet, can feel it splitting apart, and you don’t know, can’t tell if it’s just a hallucination, if it’s just your imagination. You can’t tell anymore, but you don’t have the time to dwell on it, not now.

You run run run, chased by something.

You can hear the footsteps behind you, can hear the chattering, the chittering. Your eyes grow wide, you don’t dare look behind you, you’re not so sure you can face whatever it is.

You don’t know where he is, where Kylo is, but you know it’s not him behind you, you know because as you run far and far away, you hear a bloodcurdling scream, one that comes from a throat you know, a man you love.

“Kylo!” You stop in your tracks, turn around finally, and there sprinting towards you is the tormented, twisted face and body of William, of Armitage, both bleeding profusely, limbs bent and broken, huge gaping holes and gashes in their flesh.

They are disgusting, and you cannot hold yourself back from throwing up, choking on your vomit as the demented boys wrack their bones, as they shake and shiver in the cold. 

“What are you going to do to me?” You sob, bent over, bracing onto your knees.

“We’re going to cut out your heart, and eat it.” Armitage says simply, easily, and then out from the depths of the darkness appears Brendol, who has blood all over him, all over his forearms, his face.

The screaming has stopped, you realize, and you can’t – you _cannot _believe what you fear to be true.

After a beat, the running continues, but this time it is back, back to the barn, you shove your way past them, try to find Kylo in this maze you have created for yourself. You can’t breathe, the air is too thin, it cuts your face, the tips of your fingers have gone so cold, have gone numb, but you can’t stop now.

You don’t see him, can’t find him, on your way to the barn.

But now that you are here, now that you have lured them to this place, you think that you might be able to use it to your advantage. There are so many candles, you realize, so many left burning still, that it would be such a shame, would be truly a shame if someone were to knock them over, were to let the flames lick up up up the walls of the barn, have it collapse in on itself.

The thing was full of dry hay, after all.

This becomes your plan, as you are out of breath, completely and totally fucking exhausted, as you wrench open the doors to the barn.

There are seemingly a thousand insects which have invaded the space. They screech upon your entrance, and you almost have to shield your eyes against them shield your gaze from where they swarm. You go to scream, but they only attack your mouth, try to crawl inside, and you spit furiously, for you don’t know what they are.

It is too dark to really tell, but this changes when you begin knocking everything over, when you begin dismantling this horrible, horrifying shrine to you which they have built.

“Stop!” Armitage screams, scrabbles to prevent you from removing things from the circle. “Stop! Don’t fucking touch that!”

But you don’t listen, you push him away, and in the process, you knock over a few candles.

“Shit – William!” Brendol barks, and the poor tortured soul cowers and bows to his father’s command, “Stop her!”

But William only looks at you with pain in his deep blue eyes, and does nothing, does nothing.

Despite it all, you look right back at him and your chest hurts, mouth a very small _thank you. _

The fire from the candles pick up, and soon, very soon, the four of you are trapped in the barn, insects screeching and hissing and chittering as they begin to scorch and spark. You search for another exit, search for something some way to escape, as the fire grows larger and larger.

It is blazing hot inside the barn, so fucking hot that you are sweating, sweltering.

“He’s alive.” William whispers, his eyes too wide, skin stretched too taut, as burns bubble up onto the surface of his flesh. “Go to him, go! I’ll keep them distracted!”

You do not thank him, do not look back, instead you run, your weary feet somehow carrying you out of the barn, leading you into the fields once again.

You trip, over him. Over Kylo.

“Honey?” You whisper, as shouts of brutal pain begin to sound from the barn, as the infrastructure collapses around the Huxes, as they are burned alive.

“(Y/N)?” Kylo asks, coughs, chokes, on what you aren’t sure.

You cry, sob right onto his face, because he’s so cut up, you can’t help but be reminded of his sister trying to kill him, can’t help but think of how he must remember that pain.

They’ve slashed open his scar again, the one that took so long to heal, that now has to heal again, all over again.

“It’s me, I’m here, I’m here.” You grip his hand, and give it a squeeze. “It’s time to get up now, okay? We have to get up. We have to run.” You say, and you’re struggling to push him up off the freezing cold ground, knowing the cold will kill him before anything else.

But he fights you, doesn’t help you help him. Not this time.

“I can’t.” He says, voice thick, eye welling up with tears.

They’ve blinded him, you realize, in the eye with the scar. They’ve sliced that retina thoroughly, nearly gouged it out. You cover that side of his face with your hand, trembling and shaking, hating what he means, what he’s saying.

“Kylo – ” You start but he shakes his head to the best of his ability, grunting and wheezing in pain, his breathing a low whistle.

“No, (Y/N).” He says, “I can’t.”

“Please, please don’t do this, I killed them, I trapped them in the barn. They’re dying, listen – can’t you hear them?” You’re frantic, pleading, begging. You’re begging him, you’re so close, you are both so close to making it, you can make it.

“I’m dying too.” Kylo says, and you punch the earth hard, beat your fist against it with a burst of panic induced fury.

“No you _aren’t. _You’re not!” You shout, realizing how loud you are and lowering your voice immediately, “You’re not.”

“I’m sorry.” He says, coughs, hacks up nearly his whole lung, before placing a bloodied hand on your face, with a, “(Y/N) please look at me. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, wanting to keep him talking, wanting to keep him with you just a little while longer.

“For everything.” He says.

And when he closes his eyes, you know he isn’t going to open them again.

You double over, a screaming sob wracks through you.

“Please,” You sob, “Please? Please wake up. I can’t – I don’t want to be without you.” You cry, cry and cry, tears staining his cheeks, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, because he can’t.

He can’t.

It feels like your world has shattered, completely and utterly shattered.

You’re alive, yes, but at what cost? What’s the point? You survey the area. The barn is up in flames, the screaming having finally stopped, the Huxes likely choked on the smoke, burned out.

You curl up, rest your head on Kylo’s sticky chest, hold his limp hand in yours, and through the blurred vision of your tears you wonder where it all went wrong. You can’t imagine it, you don’t know.

But you can find out.

Go back to the beginning and make new choices, see where the night will take you.

Will you survive? Or suffer a fate more gruesome than you could possibly imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! CONTENT WARNINGS !!   
This chapter contains the following: 
> 
> Major Character Death, extreme violence, gore, mentions of cannibalism, satanic ritual, animal death

**Author's Note:**

> For any questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to reach out to me over on my tumblr, which can be found at @babbushka, or https://babbushka.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> I hope to see you all in 2 weeks when the full story is unveiled! <33


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